


your heart turns out the lights

by fleurdeliser, ohnoktcsk, tuesdaysgone



Category: Comics Industry RPF, My Chemical Romance
Genre: Alternate Universe, Automata, M/M, Polyamory, Vaugely Steampunk, lake monsters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-11
Updated: 2015-01-11
Packaged: 2018-03-07 04:27:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 54,649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3161222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fleurdeliser/pseuds/fleurdeliser, https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohnoktcsk/pseuds/ohnoktcsk, https://archiveofourown.org/users/tuesdaysgone/pseuds/tuesdaysgone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>Frank's barely fucking touched his guitar when his D-string snaps. And so does Frank. He can feel the power swirl around him, crackling in the air. There's a screech of feedback: the lights blow a second later, and sparks swirl around one of the amps.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>There's a chorus of panicked swearing. Then James says, "Yeah, so, why don't we go ahead and take five?"</em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	your heart turns out the lights

**Author's Note:**

> We were lucky enough to receive several fabulous pieces of art from akamine_chan to accompany the story. [Go marvel at all of them and tell her how awesome she is!](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3159533)
> 
> Huge thanks to tabula_x_rasa for the beta. <3
> 
> (NO thanks to _Dragon Age: Inquisition_ , which was very nearly the reason that this story wasn't finished. /o\\)

art by [akamine_chan](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3159533)

Stephen is bitching about the rattling, faulty AC again. Frank is sick of retuning his guitar and he is extra sick of these fucking cheap-ass strings breaking. James watches him grind his teeth without commenting, but he doesn’t stop watching. Frank thinks about counting, to see how long he can hold out.

He takes a deep breath and strums a chord. He barely fucking touches the strings with his pick when his D string snaps. And so does Frank. He can feel it swirl around him, crackling in the air. Seconds later, the lights are out and there are sparks coming from their amps. 

There’s a chorus of panicked swearing. Then James says, “Yeah, so, why don’t we go ahead and take five?” The other guys leave right away, pulling out packs of cigarettes from their pockets. James walks over to Frank, takes the guitar from his hand, and hands him a pack of peanut butter crackers. “At least the sun’s still out,” he says easily and puts Frank’s guitar into its case.

When they get outside, Frank lights a cigarette and shoves it in his mouth. “I’ll pay for whatever damage I just-” 

“They know, Frankie,” James says. “It’s getting worse lately, isn’t it?” Frank nods tightly. “Do you think it’s time to go back to that retreat thing again?” James asks. 

Frank makes a face. It’s not that he doesn’t like going to see Grant; he kind of loves it. It just… Fuck, it always feels like he’s lost a competition against himself whenever he picks up the phone to make the call. But this is the third time in a week that he’s let his temper get the better of him, and the nearby electronics have paid the price. 

“I’ll call,” Frank mumbles.

James reaches out and claps his shoulder. “I’m sorry, dude.”

Frank sighs and eats another cracker. “You’ll be good without me for a few weeks?” 

“You always come back with lots of ideas, Frankie. I think that place is good for you.” 

“Too bad it’s so far away,” Frank says. Scotland—across the ocean, which means a plane, which means drugging himself to the gills. 

“Yeah, that part sucks. But we’ll hold down the fort,” James says. “And you’ll come back all re-energized and shit.”

“And hopefully less likely to blow the lights when you’re pissed off,” Stephen adds, coming over to join them.

Frank scratches the back of his neck. “Hopefully.” 

He’d been sure he had this fucking power—or curse—under control. But Grant will fix him. Grant always knows what to do.

* * *

Gerard arrives at Invisible Manor with a suitcase containing more notebooks than clothes. Well, not quite. But close. 

He’s fucking excited to be here. He needs to decompress, have a chance to just fucking _create_. The trip from Jersey was long, but he’s wired from too much coffee and too little sleep. 

The manor is surrounded by thickly-forested hills and is, in fact, invisible to the eye until you reach its main gates. And what a house. It’s half graceful manor, half… something out of the mind of a madman. According to the informational materials, there’s no electricity lines anywhere within miles of the place: all functions that would normally require electricity run on steam. It’s a haven for those, like its owner, who have an off-effect on electrical currents, and a retreat for artists and musicians of all sorts. 

The main gates clank open—they appear to be powered by clockwork—and Gerard sees a tall man who can only be Grant Morrison walking out from the side of the house. His driver, Vince, pulls around a semi-circular drive and parks in front of a carriage house with an open door revealing several antique cars. Morrison smiles, waves, and heads their way.

Gerard gathers his things and he’s about to open the door when Morrison does it for him. “Hello, Mr. Way. Welcome to Invisible Manor.”

Gerard steps down and offers a hand. “Mr. Morrison. It’s great to meet you in person. Thanks for inviting me.”

“Just call me Grant. And thank you. Did Vince take you by the post office in town to drop off your electronics?” 

“Yeah, everything on the restricted list. Fuck, the house is amazing. Even more than the pictures showed.”

Grant smiles broadly. “I’ve been working on it for something like twenty years.”

“And he keeps tinkering and tinkering,” Vince says with humor. 

“And I shall continue to do so, probably until the end of days,” Grant agrees. 

“Of yours, or of all of ours?” Gerard asks with a smile. 

“I don’t believe I’m immortal, but who knows,” Grant replies with a cheeky grin. 

“God help us all,” Vince says, dryly. 

“Well, Mr. Way-” 

“Gerard, please.” 

Grant nods. “Of course. Follow me. Vince will take your bags up, but doing tours gives me so much pleasure, so that’s my job.” He has a very mischievous smile. It’s… fucking captivating, Jesus. Gerard wasn’t expecting that. “Lead on,” he says. 

As soon as they walk through the main door, Gerard knows that everything the twins had told him about the house was true, and at the same time, that nothing he’d been told could come _close_ to capturing how fucking amazing this place is. A stairway winds up from his left to the second level, tall stained-glass windows let in the diffuse afternoon light, and half the foyer is taken up by a clockwork monstrosity.

“What _is_ it?” Gerard breathes. 

“Mostly it’s a sculpture,” Grant replies. “But it’s got a few functional bits too.” Gerard’s fingers are already itching for his pens. “Now, now, don’t stand in the foyer all day.” Grant grins. “This way.”

He leads Gerard down a hall and through large, ornate double doors and into a massive library. 

“Holy shit.”

“Thank you,” says Grant, obviously pleased at Gerard’s reaction. “I’ve been working on my collection of books twice as long as I’ve been working on the house; there wasn’t much else for a lad like me to do, in Glasgow.” Gerard smiles at him, and Grant shrugs easily. “I found my way forward by going backward. Gaslight, steam and gears, paper and ink. I have a lovely music room, it’s just this way.” When Gerard doesn’t follow immediately he laughs. “The library isn’t going anywhere.”

“I do like music too. I write songs sometimes,” Gerard says as he follows. 

“A man of many talents, then,” Grant replies. He leads Gerard through a small sitting room and then through another doorway, which opens into the promised music room. 

Gerard gapes. “Is that a pipe organ?”

“It is. My own design, of course,” Grant replies. “It’s– somewhat of a favorite.” His smile is fond and a bit faraway.

“That’s fucking amazing,” Gerard says. “I have a feeling everything in this house could be described like that.” 

“You haven’t even seen the upstairs yet,” Grant says, smirking. “However,” he adds seriously, “follow me and I’ll show you the dining room and the kitchen. You’ll have full access to the kitchen in between meals, of course, but Vince is an excellent cook. I can attest to that.” He pats his stomach, which draws Gerard’s eyes to his midsection, and his hand. He’s really quite attractive.

Gerard forces his eyes back up to Grant’s. “Sounds good,” he says. 

The kitchen is just as incredible as the rest of the house, in its own way. There are steam-powered appliances and an old fashioned wood-burning stove. “The coffee maker is over here,” Grant says, gesturing to a machine that looks nothing like any coffee maker Gerard has ever seen before in his life. 

“Oh sweet lord,” Gerard blurts. 

Grant laughs. “It’s not as bad as it looks. Fresh ground beans are always the best, are they not?”

“That’s true,” Gerard allows. 

“And it’s all automated, so all you have to do is flip this lever-” Grant points at a tarnished copper switch “-and it will grind the beans, which will drop into the filter, and then hot water will be pumped in from the boiler. Actually, one of my simpler designs.” Grant must notice Gerard’s look of longing, because he says, “Perhaps a demonstration is in order?”

Gerard nods. “Yes, please. I can’t—how much of the house did you design, anyway?” 

Grant lifts a mug from a rack and sets it in place. “I’ve lost count. The house itself was rather grand to begin with. I… enhanced that grandeur. And added to it, by means of a few small additions to house all the guests that kept turning up at my door.”

“He’s being modest,” says Vince, coming inside. Through the open door, Gerard sees a tangle of greenery that looks like it might be a garden. “Grant sees no reason to let his circumstances deny him creature comforts. It’s led to more modifications and renovations than I can count. If you’re lucky, he’ll invite you into his workshop one of these days.”

“I’d love to see, if you’d like to show me,” Gerard tells Grant. 

“Perhaps,” Grant replies. “I’m in the middle of several interesting projects at the moment.”

The coffee machine makes an alarming whirring noise, and then the smell of freshly-brewed coffee fills the kitchen. Gerard immediately feels himself perk up. When the mug is full, Grant hands it over and waves his hand at a spot on the counter where a coffee tray rests. Once Gerard has fixed his cup, Grant says, “Let’s go upstairs. I think you’ll be pleased with your rooms—participants in my creative retreats are placed in their own wing for maximum privacy.” 

“For if the muse strikes?” Gerard asks, sipping. 

“For when,” Grant corrects him with a wink. “Follow me.” They go upstairs and Gerard can’t help but notice that Grant has a nice ass. Well, when he’s not focusing hard on not spilling the remainder of his coffee. Grant leads him down a hallway and opens a door that’s been painted a deep blue. It leads into a little sitting room, with two doors leading off in either direction. There are plush couches, bookshelves, and even an old-fashioned radio cabinet.  

“Modified,” Grant says when he sees Gerard looking at it. He shows Gerard the back, where a collection of tubes disappears into the wall.  

“You’re fucking amazing,” Gerard breathes. Grant beams at him. 

“I like to make my guests as comfortable as possible,” Grant says. “Invisible Manor isn’t about deprivation from the things people love in the rest of the world. It’s more about learning to see them differently. As tools, rather than as distractions.”

“I like it here already,” Gerard tells him. 

“Good. Now, I see your bags are here, so I’ll leave you to settle in until dinner.”

“Thank you,” Gerard says sincerely. “Are there many others here now?”

“Just you, at the moment. Guests come and go often around here, though. Don’t worry, I’m happy to do the group session programming one-on-one, as well.”

“I’m sure it will be just as good either way,” Gerard says. 

“I like to think so,” Grant replies, and leaves Gerard to his own devices.

The first door that Gerard tries leads into a well-appointed study. There’s a sturdy writing desk, more bookshelves, and an area that would be perfect for setting up an easel. He nods and backtracks, trying the other door, unsurprised when it’s a nicely plush bedroom with an en-suite bath.

He notices a copper switch on the wall where a light switch would normally be and when he flicks it, lamps on the walls flicker to life. Gabriel and Fábio hadn’t been exaggerating at all: this place is exactly as mad as they’d described. They hadn’t stopped talking about it since they’d been, though, so clearly it had been worthwhile. Gerard has high hopes. Grant is the most fascinating person he’s ever met, he thinks, and he’d had a great conversation about art with Vince in the car as well.

He sits on the bed and realizes he’s just made a terrible mistake. He wants to explore a bit more, but damn, a nap would be nice. Then again, it’ll probably fuck up his sleep schedule even more. More coffee is probably the right choice. He gives his suitcase a sidelong look, sighs, and picks up his mug. Now, to find his way back to the kitchen.

He wanders down the stairs, letting himself stare at the art on the walls and the inventions scattered about. He’s examining what appears to be some kind of steam clock when something hits his foot. He looks down, and sees a little brass creature, clearly powered by clockwork, speedily reversing direction to go around the obstacle. “Woah,” he says, watching the little mechanical critter scurry away. Then he shakes his head and follows it. It runs into a bench in the hallway and reverses again, and he gets in its path and crouches down.

“Hey, little dude,” Gerard murmurs. Gerard isn’t sure if it’s supposed to be a clockwork representation of a real creature or what—a cat, maybe? But a mechanical cat with two front legs and a back wheel. In any case, it’s really fucking cute. 

The thing whirrs and chirps and butts against his knee. He picks it up, and it clicks at him but doesn’t, like, bite him or anything—not that it would because it’s a fucking _wind-up toy_ , but Gerard would believe almost anything of this house right now—and he carries it with him into the kitchen.

“I see you found Archibald,” Vince says when he looks up at Gerard from where he’s chopping vegetables. 

Gerard grins and looks at the thing. “Archibald, huh? Yeah, you look like an Archibald.” 

“He does. Feel free to take him upstairs with you. If the whirring gets to be too much, just let him out the door. Actually, follow him at least once, you can’t miss watching him go down the stairs.” He scoops carrots into a pot. “Did you need something? More coffee?”

“Coffee, please,” Gerard says. “I made the mistake of sitting on the bed and I had a really hard time getting back up.”

“Happy to oblige,” Vince says. “Can’t have our latest artist in residence wandering around like a zombie.”

“I guarantee me falling down the stairs is not amusing,” Gerard replies and places his cup gingerly below the coffee maker’s spout. 

“Just twist the dial and flip the lever,” Vince says, encouraging.

Gerard does as he’s told. There’s a whirring of gears and then the beans drop into the chamber and grind. After a few moments, steam puffs out of a few cracks and coffee start running into his mug. “That’s even more magical than the Keurig I have at home.”

Vince grins at him. “I suspect I’ll be seeing you in here quite frequently, mm?”

“Probably,” Gerard admits. “I suppose if I joke with Grant about running a pipeline of coffee to my room, he’ll…” 

“There is a good chance it would appear, yes,” Vince deadpans.

Gerard laughs. “I can’t deny I want that, but it will probably be good for me to have to come down here for breaks.”

“A writer with a sense of self-preservation,” Vince says, dryly. “I’m astounded.”

“Good intentions,” Gerard shrugs with a grin. 

Vince laughs. “Well, perhaps we can keep hell at bay, at any rate.” The coffee maker finishes its work, and Gerard shifts Archibald to his other hand so he can pick up his mug again. Archibald chirps. “He likes you,” Vince says.

“He’s…a toy, right?” Gerard says, dropping his voice. 

Vince smiles enigmatically. “That wouldn’t be entirely accurate. He started as a toy. He became Archibald.” Archibald chirps again. The coffee maker gives a little whirr, and Gerard looks at it, alarmed. 

“Just a coffee maker?” he asks.

“Mostly,” Vince replies with a teasing grin. “You’ll find that anything Grant has made tends to… well, talk to other things he’s made. Sometimes they talk to us.”

“This place is amazing,” Gerard says. He feels like a fucking kid on Christmas morning. 

“That it is. Hope you like ratatouille,” Vince changes the subject. “Dinner will be about an hour.”

“Awesome. I’ll… go back to my room, I guess. See if I can get some words out or draw a little,” he says. 

“Keep an eye out for Heloise,” says Vince. “She’s a little bit more prickly than Archibald is.” 

Gerard isn’t sure he wants to know what Heloise is. He supposes he’ll find out eventually. He takes a few sips from the top of his mug before trekking back upstairs. 

Instead of sitting down on the bed again, he sits down in the window seat. The manor’s grounds are are beautiful as the house itself. They look a little wild, like a fairy garden. Maybe tomorrow he can ask Grant for another tour. He takes another sip of coffee and forces himself to open his moleskine.

He surfaces an hour later when the clock above the desk in the sitting room starts to chime. Dinner time. Vince’s ratatouille, and more time to talk to the fascinating Grant Morrison. He can’t wait.

He shuts his book on a sketch that was beginning to take really interesting form and stands. Archibald skitters from where he was sitting by Gerard’s feet under the desk. 

“Sorry,” Gerard says. He runs his hands through his hair and wonders if he should put on a nicer shirt. He sort of figures his first impression might be as good as he really gets, since he’s living here for a few weeks.

He opens the door and Archibald scurries toward the stairs. Gerard grabs his mug and follows. At the top of the staircase, he meets Grant coming from the opposite direction. “I hope you’re settling in well,” Grant says. “Ah,” he adds, “you’ve befriended our Archibald.” 

“Apparently he decided he likes me? That’s what Vince said anyway,” Gerard says. “He’s cute.”

Archibald chirps and runs towards Grant. Grant scoops him up. “Yes, he is. And oh, how the cats hate him. He must have decided you need a friend, Gerard. Do you?”

Gerard shrugs. “Maybe. I certainly like having them. Even when they’re strange little sentient animatronic creatures.”

“Archibald is as strange as it gets,” Grant agrees. “But then, the same can be said for most things around here.”

“I’d been finding it hard to believe my friends’ stories,” Gerard admits. “Until I arrived.” 

“Ah, the twins, yes?” Grant asks.

Gerard nods and smiles. “I love them, but they tend to be really enthusiastic about _everything_. This felt different, though.”

“They were a wonderful addition to the house,” Grant says. “My secret wish is that all my guests would stay, forever. However impractical that would be.”

Gerard smiles. “Maybe some will someday.” 

They head down the stairs and Grant leads him into the dining room. He’s glad he didn’t change his clothes; Grant is rumpled and Vince joins them still wearing his apron. They eat family-style, passing dishes around and chatting. “We pretty much stick to vegetarian fare here,” Grant explains. 

“If it all tastes this good, I won’t even notice,” Gerard promises.

“Flattery is never a bad policy,” Vince tells him. 

“I will say complimentary things constantly as long as you don’t make fun of how many times a day you see me at the coffeemaker,” Gerard promises.

“Deal,” Vince replied with a big grin. 

“Coffee addict?” Grant asked. 

“Yup. I always drank it, but I started drinking more when I quit alcohol and drugs. And then I stopped smoking too and, well…”

“I’ll make sure to lay in a surplus,” Grant assures him. 

“Vince is an artist in multiple media,” Grant replies. “Gerard, it’s lovely to get to know you a bit more. Have you given any thought to specific workshopping during your time here? I’m flexible.” 

Gerard isn’t sure if he imagines the glint in Grant’s eye. “I’d definitely like to get a second set of eyes on some of my writing,” Gerard says. “I’m to the point where I don’t even know if it makes sense anymore.”

Grant laughs. “That’s a point I know well, as Vince can attest.”

“The curse of creative activities,” Gerard murmurs. “Regularly questioning your own sanity.”

“Truer words,” Vince grumbles, and Grant laughs and raises his glass.

“I wanted to ask,” Gerard starts, “if you would give me a tour of the grounds, as well?”

“I’d love to,” Grant replied happily. “They’re rather expansive, so if you brought hiking shoes of some sort, that might be best.”

Gerard tries to remember if he’d packed anything like that. Chances, he has to admit, are not high. “I… might have sneakers?” 

Grant chuckles. “I can probably find a pair of wellies that will fit you. Tomorrow morning? For values of morning that include before luncheon, of course.”

Gerard grins. “Tomorrow morning sounds great. So, you write and build clockworks creatures. And Vince, you’re an artist?” 

“For my sins,” Vince sighs. 

“We should all sin so divinely. Though, perhaps you do as well, Gerard,” Grant says. “I cannot wait to see your work.”

“I… dabble in everything. Currently focusing on writing, but my degree is in cartooning. I wanted to be a comic artist,” Gerard explains. 

“I certainly understand the desire to push yourself in multiple directions,” Grant says, gesturing at the house. 

“I know. I’ve read some of your work,” Gerard admits. 

“I’m flattered. It’s—esoteric at best, is it not?” Grant smiles at him and sips his wine. Gerard wonders what it tastes like, and shakes his head automatically. He hasn’t had a drink for years, and it’s not a the wine he wants to taste.

This could get inconvenient, but Gerard keeps catching Grant studying him, so maybe not too inconvenient. He’ll just have to make sure he’s worth studying.

After dinner has been cleared away, Grant invites Gerard to join him in the conservatory for coffee. 

“Do you have a gardener?” Gerard asked, looking out into the bits of garden visible though the large windows. “Or do you and Vince do it yourselves?”

“We share the duties, and a friend comes up from town sometimes to help. And some of it, ah, gardens itself.” 

Gerard laughs. “I should have guessed.”

“This is a strange house. With a strange owner, who has strange guests. Some of whom use their strange horticultural gifts in the garden. It keeps things interesting,” Grant says. 

“That should be the title of your next brochure,” Gerard laughs.

“Not a bad idea,” Grant agrees, smiling. “More coffee? Or should I cut you off, so your sleep schedule won’t be completely fucked?”

Gerard laughs. “Whether or not I have a lot of coffee doesn’t seem to have any impact on whether or not I sleep, at this point. Basically, my answer will always be ‘more coffee, please.’”

Grant laughs and tops off his mug from the carafe on the side table. “So, tell me more about yourself, Gerard. You draw, you write, you like the outdoors but don’t dress for it, you don’t sleep much, you’re not phased by things that most would find strange. What pieces am I missing?”

“I’m from Jersey,” Gerard shrugs. 

Grant grins. “That actually explains quite a bit. One of my regular visitors hails from there.”

“A writer?” 

“No,” Grant replies, without elaborating.

“Jersey is… a pretty unique place,” Gerard offers. 

“So I’ve heard. Anything else?” Grant asks. 

“I grew up reading comic books and watching horror movies,” he says. “So I suppose that had an impact too.” 

“Only a positive one, in my opinion.” Gerard opens his mouth to reply but yawns, instead. Grant stretches out his legs and sighs. “Perhaps it’s time for bed, young Gerard.”

Gerard looks ruefully at the ornate cuckoo clock on the conservatory’s wall. “I don’t really have any idea _what_ time it is, but if you say so…”

Grant laughs. “Close enough to bedtime that I’m holding in yawns of my own. Come, I’ll show you one of the side stairs that you might find useful. Two birds, one stone.”

“Sounds good,” Gerard agrees. He’s kind of hoping that when Grant says “side stairs” he really means “secret passages”.

Grant leads him toward the back of the conservatory. Gerard sees no doors, and his excitement grows. Grant slides his fingers under the lip of the top of a cabinet and the entire wall, cabinet and all, swings out. 

“A fucking _hidden staircase_ ,” he breathes. 

“Made by yours truly,” Grant adds. “This is my favorite room, and my suite is just above us… but so is the retreat wing.” Gerard’s heart thuds a little at that morsel of information.

“Good to know,” Gerard says, trying for nonchalance. “Any other hidden passageways I should know about?” 

“I think I’ll let you find the other ones for yourself,” Grant says.

Gerard can’t help but grin. “It’ll be like _Clue_. Except without all the blackmail, murder, or FBI agents.” 

“One hopes,” Grant murmurs.

It’s one of those tightly-winding staircases that Gerard has always simultaneously loved and been freaked out by. Like he’s going to round the corner to the next floor and find an ogre waiting for him at the top. Instead, there’s an intricately-carved door. Grant turns the handle clockwise, and it slides open, revealing one of the sitting rooms in the same passage as Gerard’s suite.

“Thought you said your room was above us,” Gerard reminds him. 

“Didn’t turn the handle that way,” Grant says absently. “Now, you’re in the blue room, so—here you are.” He gestures at Gerard’s door, to which Gerard has just realized he’s been escorted. 

“Thank you for a fucking great first day,” Gerard tells him. 

“Is there anything you need before I leave you for the night?” Grant asked. 

“I- no,” says Gerard, and he yawns. “I think I’m good. See you tomorrow?” 

“Of course. Sleep well.” 

Gerard slips into his room and does not watch Grant walk away, even though he sort of wants to. His time here is clearly going to be inspiring in more ways than one. 

*

The next morning, Gerard wakes up and doesn’t immediately remember where he is. The ceiling is a different color than the one he’s used to, and there’s a soft ticking noise coming from the wall next to his head, like gears turning. Gears—of course. Invisible Manor is probably the maddest and most fascinating place he’s ever woken up in.

For the first time in a long time, he’s actually pretty excited to get out of bed. He takes a shower and dresses in comfortable clothes before going downstairs for coffee and to see what breakfast looks like. 

As it turns out, breakfast looks like a proper fry-up, eggs and potatoes and onion all sizzling together in a skillet. Vince looks comfortable in a ratty sweatshirt and a well-worn apron, prodding at the skillet with a spatula and reading a folded newspaper. “Mug by the maker,” he tells Gerard, anticipating that coffee is priority number one.

Gerard flips the lever and turns the knob and waits for his coffee to pour into his mug. He fixes his cup and takes a long sip before turning back to Vince. “Good morning,” he says. 

“Apparently it is, now,” Vince says, laughing. “You sure you haven’t changed your mind about that coffee pipeline?” Gerard is too busy drinking to answer. Vince laughs. “Breakfast in five minutes. Grant should be down soon.” 

Gerard’s finished his first cup, and is well underway on his second, when Grant finally appears. Something had pinged on the wall clock about thirty seconds before, and Vince had stopped in his tracks to fix a cup of coffee. Now Gerard sees why; Grant scoops it off the counter and sips gratefully. Vince is already setting plates on the kitchen table. It’s ridiculously domestic, and Gerard has a quick pang of jealousy.

His little apartment in Queens is going to feel awfully cold and lonely after this, he thinks. He’s just glad that he’s got a whole month to call Invisible Manor home. 

“Good morning, Gerard,” Grant says with a warm smile. 

“Good morning,” Gerard says. “You’re just in time for food.” 

“Oh, I know,” Grant replies. Gerard shoots the clock on the wall a suspicious look. Grant just gives him a mysterious smile and sips his coffee. 

“This is one of those things you’re gonna say I need to figure out for myself, huh?” Gerard asks with a smile. 

“You’re getting good at this.” Grant accepts a filled plate from Vince with a thank-you. Gerard takes his own plate, and they all crowd around the table in the little breakfast nook off the kitchen. 

Gerard looks out the window over the kitchen sink. “It’s a nice day,” he says with satisfaction. 

“For a stroll in the gardens?” Grant finishes.

“I was hoping,” Gerard agrees. 

“Then after breakfast, that’s what we’ll do,” Grant says. Gerard nods and eats his potatoes. Grant and Vince talk about repairs and about Grant’s workshop, which Vince insists is a fire hazard. “I installed the sprinkler system you bullied me into,” Grant complains. “What more do you want from me?”

“More failsafes on the steam engines,” Vince said. “It wouldn’t do for you to be scalded to death, especially not while there’s company.”

Grant sighs. “Well, no, but I think you’re being a bit excessive, Vincent.”

“If it is my burden in life to keep you from killing yourself with your mad scientist ways, then that’s what I’ll fucking do,” Vince tells him.

Gerard laughs. “Clearly _someone’s_ got to do it. It’s probably good that it’s you.”

“It absolutely is,” Grant agrees. “I trust Vince implicitly.”

“Which is why you’re going to add more failsafes to the steam engines,” Vince says, satisfied. 

Grant rolls his eyes. “Yes, of course. I’d rather not be steamed to death or blow up the house.”

Gerard finds himself smiling slightly just listening to the two of them bicker. It reminds him that he should probably write to Mikey, let him know that he made it. Maybe this afternoon.

They finish eating and both Grant and Gerard go refill their coffee mugs. When they’re done, Gerard goes upstairs to change shoes and meets Grant back in the kitchen. 

“Alright,” Grant says, clapping his hands together. “Out to the back garden first, I think.”

The back garden is a wild, rambling tangle, and there are strange statues peering out of the greenery. Gerard looks around wide-eyed. He’s never seen any place like this before. 

“Is it because it’s Scotland, or because it’s you?” he asks when Grant raises an eyebrow.

“A bit of both, I’d like to think,” Grant says.

Gerard smiles. “It’s _wonderful_.” 

“I’ve spent many an hour out here, soaking in the atmosphere of it all,” Grant says. 

“Creating it?” Gerard asks mildly, and Grant laughs. 

“Some of it. Like the house. I tinker.” 

It’s such a succinct summary of his personality that Gerard has to bite back a smile. He sees a particularly odd-looking statue at the center of a group of potted herbs. “What’s this one?”

Grant laughs. “Vince calls him the Patron Saint of Flavorful Food.” 

“And what is he really?” Gerard asks. 

“You’ll have to ask him sometime. He might tell you.” Grant smiles and offers Gerard a hand to climb over the small stone wall edging the kitchen garden. They emerge on a gravel walkway surrounded by greenery that’s well-tended, but still gives the impression of being just this side of wild. 

“I can think of about a thousand stories that could be told about this spot,” Gerard says, pausing to look around. “At least.”

“Then you’d better get started,” Grant says, leading him down the lane.

The tour continues. There’s a maze (created by another one of Grant’s artist guests and, Grant cautions, more complex than it looks) and a lake (Grant refuses to admit whether or not it’s home to a lake monster, but Gerard has his suspicions). “Just know that skinny dipping is not recommended. And that comes from personal experience,” Grant says with a totally straight face.

“I’m not really the skinny dipping type,” Gerard says.

“Suit yourself,” Grant says, waving a hand. “But do remember what I said about keeping an open mind during your stay here.” 

“I don’t think that will be much of a problem,” Gerard says with a smile. 

Their walk winds them back up around the carriage house where Gerard ogles the cars. “I think you’ll like the second floor, as well,” Grant tells him, and gestures to a stairway along the wall. 

Gerard gasps when he reaches the top. The second floor has been entirely converted into an art studio, with huge windows that let in the light. “Holy shit,” he breathed. “This is fucking incredible.” 

“Vince works here often, and we have occasional workshops for guests as well. You’re certainly welcome to use the room, unless you’d prefer your own space, of course.”

“I-” says Gerard, staring around and trying to take everything in. “I think I might be spending some time up here, yeah.”

Grant smiles at him. “It’s always gratifying to see people appreciate the work we’ve put into this place.”

“If you’re trying to tempt me to extend my stay, it’s working,” Gerard tells him.

Grant laughs. “The door is always open. Though I admit, usually my artists take at least a week to start making noises about moving in.”

“I make these kinds of judgements pretty fast. I’m almost always right,” Gerard replies. 

“Confident, too,” Grant says, grinning. “Come on, there’s not much more to see and I could use a drink.” They walk back to the house and make for the kitchen. It’s empty—they’d passed Vince heading out to the shop. “More coffee?” Grant asks. 

“Please,” Gerard says and Grant pours Gerard coffee and gets himself a tall glass of water. “I feel so inspired,” Gerard says when they sit down. “Like everything is possible.”

“It is,” Grant agrees, smiling easily.

Gerard laughs. “I guess so.”

* * *

When his phone starts ringing, Grant is—as Vince would put it—tinkering in his shop and thinking about their lovely guest. Grant practically jumps out of his skin. It’s been so quiet all morning since Gerard disappeared back upstairs. And Grant is never going to find the spring he was holding a moment ago. He sighs and picks up the receiver. “Invisible Manor.”

“Hey,” says the voice at the other side of the line, and Grant grins, broadly. 

“Frank. How are you?” 

“Oh, you know. Blew out some amps and fried some guitars a little bit,” he replies, nonchalantly. Entirely too nonchalantly. “So I guess I’ll be coming to stay again, if that’s cool.”

“It will be fantastic to see you,” Grant assures him, not bothering to ask how long he’ll be staying. Neither of them could predict that answer anyway. “Do you need help making travel arrangements?”

“I’ve got a flight out on Tuesday,” Frank says.  

“Shall I send Vince to pick you up?” 

“Yeah, that’d be good. I’ll probably be pretty out of it,” Frank replies. Grant wishes there was another way for Frank to travel, rather than sedated to the gills. 

“He’ll take care of you,” Grant says. He would do it himself, if he could. But even if he drugged himself to high heaven, his own powers would still cause problems. 

“I’m not crashing any wild parties, am I?”

Grant laughs. “No wild parties. We’ve only got one other person here right now and he’s more into the sort of parties that are not wild along traditional definitions of the word.”

“Was that supposed to _not_ be intriguing?” Frank laughs down the line.

“I suppose you’ll just have to find out,” Grant says. “I’ll prepare your usual room. Any special requests?”

“Just. You. The stupid cats. Archibald,” Frank said, finally letting Grant hear the exhaustion Grant knew he must be holding in.

“You’ll have them, love,” Grant murmurs. He hears Frank take a deep breath and let it out again. Smoking, maybe. Grant can picture Frank, alone and hunched in on himself, and he aches to have Frank here already so he can do something about the tension Frank is feeling. 

“Yeah,” Frank murmured. “So I’ll be there Tuesday. The usual flight.” 

“I know you hate it all,” Grant says, “but I will be very happy to see you.”

“Not as happy as me,” Frank replies. 

Grant smiles. “Take care,” he says.

“See you soon,” Frank tells him. 

The line goes dead; Grant sets the phone back on its cradle and sits back in his chair. Of all the guests he’s ever had, Grant most wants to Frank to decide to stay. But although their powers are much the same, Frank can actually _live_ in the outside world, and his dreams run in the way of bands and music and playing shows for surging crowds. Grant could never ask him to give those dreams up. So he welcomes Frank whenever he calls, does what he can to put his pieces back together when he needs it, and sends him back out to pursue them. And misses him.

Perhaps some of it is their shared power: even though it manifests differently for both of them, Grant understands Frank’s frustrations, and knows that Frank understands his own. Perhaps it’s Frank’s delight every time Grant shows him a new invention or silly bit of tinkering. Or perhaps it’s just Frank himself: beautiful, talented, and so full of life and personality that he wears it all on his skin. 

Vince is going to mock him mercilessly when he has two beautiful young men in residence, Grant thinks with a sigh.

Gerard had looked like he’d been thunderstruck this morning when they’d parted ways. Grant could practically see the inspiration lighting him up. He’s very much looking forward to seeing what Gerard creates while he’s here. He is, if he’s honest, also very much looking forward to seeing more of Gerard. Gerard of the coffee addiction and the messy hair and the predilection for touching his neck and face while he talks. 

He pulls the magnifying visor off his head and sets it on his workbench, crossing to his desk to see if he can find inspiration somewhere other than the project Frank’s call had interrupted. When he pulls out his chair he disturbs the cat sleeping there, who meows at him piteously.

“You’ll need to find a different spot,” he tells her. She meows again, and he laughs and picks her up, depositing her in the cat bed on the windowsill. She gives him a dirty look and stretches out, tail swishing in the air, before settling onto the bed. 

Yes, things have been good. They will be better when Frank gets here. 

*

Grant drains his water glass and looks over at Gerard. “Do you have time to visit my workshop?”

Gerard grins at him. “Shit, of course I do. Like I’m going to pass that up.” Grant smiles at him. 

“Be careful,” Vince warns darkly. “He’ll get you up there and not let you out.”

“Ooh, sinister,” Gerard replies.

“Mad scientist,” Grant agrees, amiably. 

“As long as you don’t Doctor Frankenstein me to a steam engine, I think I’ll take my chances,” Gerard says with a smile. 

“You’d be more decorative than my standard steel plate,” Grant says, making a show of looking Gerard over.

“I’d be more opinionated, too. Uh,” Gerard says, sounding a little worried, “is coffee allowed in the secret lab?”

Vince laughs. “If he couldn’t have coffee, I think he’d go mad.” 

Grant just smiles. “There’s no electricity to short-circuit, and most everything can be washed. Follow me, Gerard.” 

Grant heads toward the back wing of the house. He toys with the idea of showing Gerard another of the secret passageways, but he decides to keep his silence for now. They go up, up, up the spiral staircase and into his main workspace. 

“I start everything here,” he explains. “When projects get big, I transfer to a room downstairs. And sometimes I build them in place, like the pipe organ. But I like to start them, design them, here.” He gestures around his tower room.  He’s proud of his lab. 

Gerard is spinning around in a slow circle, eyes wide with admiration. “Definitely a mad scientist,” he says, finally, looking at Grant and laughing. “Shit, I don’t even know where to _start_.”

Grant laughs with him. “How about I show you the plans for a few things you’ve already seen? Give you a feel for what I do. Then I can show you some of my new projects.”

Gerard nods enthusiastically and Grant goes to a closet for blueprints. “I think you’ll be interested in this one,” he tells Gerard, popping open the tube and spreading the paper out on the drafting table. 

Gerard stares in silence for several moments, putting the pieces together. “Coffee maker?” 

Grant beams. “Indeed.” He goes on to explain a few of the machine’s quirks and why he designed it that way. He’s delighted when Gerard catches on and asks intelligent questions. He pores over the technical drawing, too, asking about Grant’s preferences in materials and how long it took. Grant grins. “You know, you told me that you were here to work on your writing. But I’m getting the sense that art is just as important to you, hmm?”

Gerard runs a hand through his hair. “Yeah, I guess it is. It’s just… the thing that’s _always_ there. If that makes any sense.”

“Sure,” Grant says. “It’s your building block.”

“Exactly,” Gerard agrees. “It’s not my focus right now, but it’s in everything I do.”

“Draw all your characters and major settings?” Grant asks. 

“Oh my god, yes,” Gerard replies. “I can’t not.”

“Next time, maybe you’ll show me. Now, want to go downstairs to the big room?” Gerard nods, and Grant leads him down. “I’m in-between projects at the moment, but there are a few things down here that I’m constantly working on.”

“Are you… building a _car_?” Gerard asks, when he sees one of Grant’s pet projects. 

Grant grins and shrugs. “I wanted to see what a car I designed and built looked like.”

“It’s gorgeous,” Gerard says, leaning down to look in a window at the roughed-in interior. Grant takes the opportunity to look at him. His guests are almost always interesting people, but Gerard is particularly fascinating. There’s just something about him that Grant connects with. The way his mind works, his ideas. The way he swings from thing to thing with a bird-quick yet intense focus. The way his entire face—his whole body—seems to light up with excitement and inspiration, as it’s doing now. “So this is steam-powered?” 

Grant nods. “I could have done a combustion engine without much issue, but I like steam.” 

“And you wanted to design _your_ car,” Gerard says. 

“Of course,” Grant agrees.

“Hey,” says Gerard suddenly, looking over at one of the benches. “Is that another Archibald?” 

“Well, it’s another little critter. Haven’t named it yet.” 

“Archibald is definitely one of a kind, anyway,” Gerard says.

“That he is,” Grant laughs. “This one will take on its own life. Usually that starts happening when they’re named.”

“That sounds crazy, you know,” Gerard points out.

“I’ve found that I care less and less about sounding crazy as I’ve gotten older,” Grant says, laughing. “Everyone experiences the world uniquely, after all.”

“True,” Gerard replies with a grin. “So, with Archibald, did you know that would happen when you named him?” 

“I didn’t actually name him, Frank did. And no, I had no idea,” Grant replies. 

“Who’s Frank?” Gerard asks.

“A recurring visitor,” Grant replies. “One you’ll be meeting, actually; he called me this morning to say he was flying out later in the week. You two have much in common, I suspect.” 

“It’ll be fun to have someone else here,” Gerard says. “What sort of art does he do?” 

“He’s a musician, though he comes predominantly because he tends to… blow circuits when he gets emotional.”

“That could be a problem for a musician,” Gerard comments.

“Indeed.” Grant remembers Frank’s voice on the phone this morning; how defeated he’d sounded. He pushes down the ache and says, “It will be lovely to have him back. He’s from New Jersey as well.”

“I’m doubly glad I get to meet him, then,” Gerard replies.

Grant changes the subject and shows Gerard a few more projects, but he’s thinking about Frank now. There’s a small, shameful part of his mind that wonders just what kind of calming Frank will need, this time. He can’t deny that he likes it when Frank comes and wants a little _more_ than just a place to stay where there’s no danger of him blowing up any electronics. That usually happens when he’s the only one around, though. Grant supposes he can be patient and find out.

“I should probably let you work,” Gerard says guiltily, after a few minutes more of exploration. 

Grant smiles. “I don’t mind. If you wanted company, you could work up here if you like.”

“I’d love to, but I think I might be too distracted. More than usual,” Gerard laughs.

“Fair enough,” Grant says. “I’ll see you at dinner?” 

“Wouldn’t miss it,” Gerard replies with a big grin. “The food and company are way too good.” He gives the proto-Archibald one last pat and leaves Grant alone in his workshop.

The next few weeks, Grant reflects, are going to be very interesting. 

He pulls his main notebook out of the pile and looks at the plans for the little creature on his bench. He’s still not sure it will work. He needs Frank here to test it. It’s been sitting neglected since shortly after the last time Frank came to visit. That’s when he’d gotten the idea. And he still hasn’t said a word to Frank about the project.

If it works… Well. Theoretically, if it works, Frank will never need to come and visit Grant again. That thought makes Grant’s chest hurt, but he wants Frank to be happy. Wants him to be able to do what he wants to do. Perhaps he’ll be able to get Frank to come as an artist, even if he doesn’t come because he needs it. The thought of never seeing Frank again is rather more than he can stand.

“You’re going to be something special, little one,” he murmurs to the little creature in progress.

He works until Vince rings the bell to remind him to come down for dinner. Grant closes his notebook and goes down. Perhaps he will take Gerard out for an evening walk. The loch is very pretty at night. Gerard seems like he would benefit from the activity, too.

Gerard arrives in the kitchen ten minutes later than Grant does. His hair is a bit wild, and his fingers are ink-smudged. He looks sheepish.

“Get caught up in your work?” Grant asks with a grin. 

Gerard nods. “I even heard the bell, but then I wanted to finish the bit I was in the middle of, and. Well.”

“I’d love to see it if you’re up to sharing.” 

“Me too,” Vince echoes.

Gerard scrubs a hand through his hair and ends up with ink on his temples. “In a few days, maybe? I don’t exactly know what it wants to be yet.”

“I’m sure we can wait,” Grant says. “We’ll just be horribly curious until then.” He smiles as he says it, and Vince waves them to the table.

Dinner conversation touches on a wide variety of subjects, and eventually alights on travel. Gerard tells them about road-tripping from New Jersey to California. For his part, Grant recounts some of his visits to rural India. Gerard is utterly enthralled by everything, but particularly what he has to say about the Holi Festival. “You come out completely covered. I felt as if I was washing brightly colored powder from every crevice for days.” 

“I want to do that,” Gerard breathes. 

_I want to take you,_ Grant thinks, surprising himself. 

He turns that thought over and over in his mind for the rest of the meal, while Vince tells Gerard about his plan to travel to France for a while after he’s finished his long-term residence here. He certainly hadn’t seen it coming, but fuck if he isn’t attracted to Gerard. It’s hardly the first time he’s been attracted to a guest, but for some reason, he just hadn’t expected it. He should have. He’s nothing if not predictable when it comes to those he’s attracted to. 

It’s not for nothing that Gerard reminds Grant so strongly of Frank. Frank, who will be here in just a few days time. He nearly laughs. He does love to get himself into ridiculous situations. 

“Gerard, do you fancy another walk after dinner?” he asks.

“Where to?” Gerard asks. 

“Around the loch,” Grant replies. “It’s lovely when the moon is out.”

“Sure,” Gerard says with a smile. 

Vince bullies them into helping with the dishes, so it’s just past dusk when Grant leads Gerard out through the door into the back garden, and then through the little gate at its edge. They head down the path. It’s well-worn and Grant assures Gerard of this as they walk. “I make sure the path is clear at least once a week.”

“Just don’t swim in the loch. I remember this part of the tour,” Gerard teases.

“I would definitely advise against it,” Grant agrees, gravely. 

“Are we talking Nessie? Or something totally different?” Gerard asks. 

“Nothing as well-documented as Nessie,” Grant replies. “The loch has been the subject of lore for centuries with few answers. Here, there’s a bench.” He leads Gerard over and tugs him down. “Let’s watch the water for a bit.”

It’s a lovely night. The surface of the loch is still, and the moonlight is reflecting off of it. “I feel like every minute I spend here is more magical than the last,” Gerard murmurs quietly. 

“Good,” Grant says. He can’t help it.

Gerard looks over at him and asks, “Why did you start the artist’s retreat, anyway?”

“Because I was lonely,” Grant answers honestly. “There aren’t many people who need a place like this for the same reasons I do, and their visits can be few and far between. So I expanded operations. I enjoy the company and I like to flatter myself that the property is beautiful enough to be worth it.”

“This place _is_ gorgeous,” Gerard agrees, looking back out at the loch. “But the house is… I haven’t felt this inspired in a long fucking time. So thank you.”

“I’m glad,” Grant replies. 

“And I hope I’m helping you feel a little less lonely,” Gerard adds. 

“You are,” Grant murmurs, touching Gerard’s wrist.

Gerard smiles at him, and Grant feels a wave of _something_ bloom in his chest. Fuck, Gerard has a beautiful smile. He swallows and pulls his hand away from Gerard’s before he lets the moonlight and Gerard’s beauty influence him further. Gerard doesn’t say anything, but the silence is less uncomfortable than merely… pleasant.

“Wish I’d brought my sketchbook,” Gerard says, wistfully.

“I guess we’ll have to come back out here tomorrow night,” Grant tells him. 

“Can we?” Gerard sounds enthusiastic. 

“If the weather keeps,” Grant promises. Gerard smiles at him again and fuck, maybe it’s the moon,  but Grant wants to kiss him. “You’re not watching for lake monsters,” he teases lightly, trying to distract himself.

“Fuck,” Gerard laughs, turning back to the loch. “I can’t get eaten by a lake monster, I’ve got shit to do.”

Grant laughs too. “To be fair, no one has been eaten in years and years. But let’s not give anyone reason to break that streak.”

“I think you’ll protect me,” Gerard says. Grant bites the inside of his cheek.

They linger a while longer before Grant leads them back up the path to the house. “Thank you,” Gerard says quietly as they step into the lantern glow of the house. 

“My pleasure,” Grant answers, and means every syllable.

* * *

art by [akamine_chan](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3159533)

* * *

Frank’s doing deep-breathing exercises the whole way through the security line. Fuck, he hates flying. The Xanax he took earlier is only helping so much. When he manages to get through the security line and to his gate without glitching anything out, it’s a fucking miracle. The second he gets on the plane, he’s taking two Benadryl and passing the fuck out until they land in Glasgow. He just needs to make it that far. He can do it. He’s done it before.

Knowing what’s waiting for him on the other side of this whole fucking ordeal really helps. 

He waits impatiently at the gate, staying as far from the computers as possible, just in case. He usually only glitches stuff in close proximity to him—like guitar amps, for instance—but it’s better safe than sorry, especially when he’s like this. They finally board, and he’s asleep before they even take off, leaning against the window. The next thing he knows, the plane is landing in Glasgow. 

He’s groggy, but he gets himself off the plane and follows the crowd to the customs line. It goes relatively smoothly and when he gives his reason for visiting, nobody even looks at him funny. Finally, he’s able to make his way to baggage claim where Vince is already waiting with his suitcase. 

“Hullo, Frankie,” Vince says. “All right?” Frank thinks he manages a smile, but he must not do a very good job with it, because Vince sighs and hauls him in for a hug. Frank hugs back. “C’mon then,” Vince says. “Let’s get home. Grant is impatient to see you.” 

“I’m impatient to see him too,” Frank says.

Vince laughs. “You? Impatient? The past year has changed you, my friend.” 

Frank smiles a little more. “Gonna let me drive that car sometime, Vincent?”

“Maybe once the drugs wear off,” Vince says, patting him on the cheek.

Frank sighs, and he complains when Vince refuses to let him take his own bag to the car, but he has to admit that he’s still feeling the meds. Especially when he falls asleep again thirty seconds after they pull out of the lot. 

He wakes up on his own when they turn off the road into the Manor’s lane and sighs with relief. Fuck, he’s so damn glad to be here. He’s missed this place so much. 

Even though it feels like afternoon to him—fucking time zones—it’s late enough that the lanterns along the Manor’s drive are glowing. Frank is a little surprised by the sudden surge of excitement in his chest. It only builds when he sees a familiar figure waiting at the Manor’s door. He’s still shaking off the drugs, but he can see Grant’s face, his understanding smile, and he can’t wait.

Frank is out of the car almost before Vince has it properly stopped. He takes the steps up to the door where Grant is standing, two at a time, and throws himself into Grant’s arms. 

Grant folds him into a tight hug. “Hello, darling,” he murmurs against Frank’s hair. “Welcome back.”

“I’m so glad to see you,” he murmurs. “In all this, no matter how much everything else fucking sucks, the fact that I get to come see you makes it okay.” 

Grant squeezes him tight. “Let’s get you settled in your room. Dinner is soon.” 

“Who cooked if Vince was picking me up?” Frank asks as he pulls back.

“Our artist in residence,” Grant tells him. “I tried to help, but he banished me from the kitchen. Said I was hovering.”

“Will it be edible?” Frank asks, raising an eyebrow.

“He assured me that while on the whole, he can’t cook, he is extremely skilled at chickpea curry,” Grant says with a little grin. “I am choosing to believe him until such time as I take the first bite.”

Frank laughs a little and leans against Grant’s side. Grant kisses his temple and picks up Frank’s bag, which Vince had set near their feet before taking the car back to the carriage house. “Come on, then. This is a lot of luggage for you, darling,” Grant says.

“I think I’m gonna stay longer this time,” Frank says. “See if that helps me keep it under control longer.”

“As long as you need,” Grant promises. 

They head up the main staircase. Frank has been here when the house was full of people and when it was empty except for him. He glances at the door to the artists’ wing, curious about the current visitor.

They drop Frank’s things in his room. This is always his room. Ever since the first time. Sometimes he feels weird when he realizes other people probably stay in it when he’s not here. 

Grant looks at him. “Do you need to shower, or change, or-”

“Dinner, please,” Frank says. 

“All right,” Grant smiles.

He catches Grant’s hand before he leaves the room, though. “Grant, I -”

Grant laces their fingers together. “I am here for whatever you need or want.”

“I’m really happy to be here. Did I say that already?” Frank asks.

“You did,” Grant replies. He licks his lips, and Frank stares. He can’t really be blamed for going up on his toes and kissing Grant. 

“I _missed_ you,” he says. 

Grant cups Frank’s face in his hands and presses their foreheads together. “Same. As I said. Whatever you need or want, always.” 

Frank nods and takes a deep breath. Fuck, he needed this. Needed Grant’s steady presence even more than he needed the house itself. “Dinner,” he repeats, after a few moments. 

“Yes, let’s,” Grant agrees. “You’ll like Gerard. He’s from Jersey. Extremely talented.” 

“Yeah?” Frank asks. 

Grant pushes open the door to the back stair and the scent of curry fills the air. “I think so, yes,” Grant says. 

Frank watches the back of Grant’s head as they go down the stairs. Now that he’s here, he’s wondering why he even bothers leaving. He feels _better_. Well, he still feels like shit from the flight, and the meds. But he feels like he can breathe again after a long time underwater.

“Hi,” he hears a man greet Grant when Grant gets to the kitchen.

“If it tastes even half as good as it smells, we’ll eat like kings tonight,” Grant tells the man. He’s got messy black hair and a crooked smile. “Gerard, this is Frank. Frank, Gerard.”

“Frank from Jersey!” says Gerard. “Hope you like chickpea curry, it’s kind of all I can make.” 

“I generally don’t argue with other people cooking for me,” Frank says. “Nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you too,” Gerard replies. “Grant says you’re one of the regulars?”

“I- kind of,” Frank agrees. 

“I might be joining you. I love it here already,” Gerard says cheerfully. 

Frank smiles. “It’s pretty fucking great.” 

Vince comes in the room then. “Smells good, Gerard,” he says. “And you didn’t even destroy my kitchen.”

“Fuck off,” Gerard says, cheerfully. 

Vince laughs and pats him on the shoulder. “I’ll finish setting the table. Leave you two troublemakers to Grant’s tender mercies.”

“I don’t know about Frank, but I am an _angel_ ,” Gerard says. 

Frank snorts. “I don’t even know you but I know that’s a lie.”

“Oooh,” Gerard says, grinning at him. “I like you already.”

Frank grins back. “Jersey kids gotta stick together.”

Grant is looking back and forth between the two of them, grinning broadly. “I knew you two would get along,” he says.

“To be fair, most of the people who visit here tend to be the sort who get along,” Vince points out with a smile as he places the last fork on the table. 

“As always, Vin makes a good observation.” Grant smiles and exchanges a look with Vince that Frank can’t quite read.

Gerard carries the pot of curry over to the table and they all take their seats. Once he has food on his plate, Frank realizes how ravenous he is. And then Grant sets a cup of black, slightly sweet coffee next to his hand and everything is perfect. He knows it’s perfect because Grant has been fixing his coffee for him since about his second or third visit. And Gerard’s curry is really excellent.

Frank’s quiet during dinner. He speaks up occasionally, but mostly he’s content to let the conversation flow around him. He sips his coffee and watches the way Gerard talks with his hands. Gerard is interesting and funny in a way that kind of surprises Frank because he’s so fucking sly about it. He’s pretty sure Gerard’s art or writing or whatever it is he does will totally appeal to him. He definitely dominates the conversation; at least, when Grant doesn’t. And the whole time, Frank feels Grant’s eyes on him every so often; checking in. 

He has a feeling he’s not going to be sleeping alone tonight. He is one hundred percent okay with that. 

After dinner, Grant leads them into the sitting room. He catches the tail end of something Gerard is saying about the lake. Grant looks at Frank and grins. “Gerard here has taken a liking to the monster in the loch.”

Frank grins back. “Makes sense. Patrice is very likable.”

“Patrice?” Gerard’s eyebrows go way up.

“We go way back,” Frank shrugs, enjoying the look on Gerard’s face. 

“You’re fucking with me,” Gerard says. “I _know_ you’re fucking with me. And yet, I still believe you.”

“It’s this innocent little face,” Grant says, reaching over to pat Frank’s cheek.

Frank gives them both his most charming smile, though he kind of ruins it with a yawn. “Fuck. Fucking timezones.”

“Also fuck doping yourself up so you can get here,” Grant says with feeling. 

“It _got_ me here,” Frank says. 

Grant sighs and squeezes Frank’s shoulder, and Frank knows what he means. He sees Gerard looking between them, curiously.

“So,” Frank says. “Where’s Archie?” 

“He’s taken to napping in my room,” Gerard says. “When I came down to make dinner, he lifted his head and started for a moment, before curling back up again.”

“Guess I’m not the favorite anymore,” Frank sighs lightly.

Gerard looks alarmed. “I didn’t- I’m sure if he knew you were here-”

Frank laughs. “I’m just fucking with you. I named him. I know he loves me.”

“I have yet to see Heloise,” Gerard says after a beat.

“She does like to bide her time,” Grant says, thoughtfully. “I’d pay careful attention when you go through doorways, just in case.”

“What’s she going to do, bite my ankles?” Gerard asks. 

“She is rather cat-like,” Grant says. 

“Your actual cats are friendly,” Gerard points out. Frank yawns again in the middle of his nod of agreement.

“Darling,” Grant murmurs. 

“If I don’t stay awake for a few more hours, I’m going to fuck myself over,” Frank protests. A grin twitches at the corner of Grant’s mouth. “Shut up,” Frank says, burying his face in his hands. 

“We’ll keep you awake, if that’s what you want, Frankie,” Vince says. “More coffee?”

“Nah, Grant’s right,” Frank says. “I should go upstairs, even if the rest of the house is full of night owls.”

The others say their goodnights, and Frank heads upstairs—alone. He showers and changes into pajamas He’s not surprised when there’s a knock on his door a little while later, but he _is_ surprised at who’s standing there when he answers the door. “Present,” says Gerard. He holds out a hand, and Archibald chirps and spins around in excitement.

Frank beams and takes Archibald, who trills at him. He’s not exactly soft or cuddly, but he’s still pretty great. “Thanks,” Frank says to Gerard. 

“No problem,” Gerard replies with a smile. “I’ll try to leave my door open during the day from now on.”

Archibald chirps and butts up against Frank’s chin. Frank grins and pats him on the head. “Yeah, I missed you too, buddy.” He sets Archibald carefully on the ground and lets him decide where to go. Archibald promptly shoots under Frank’s bed and then into his sitting area to investigate his luggage, still mostly packed and sitting by the hearth.

“Well, see you tomorrow?”  Gerard asks. “Hope you can sleep.”

“Thanks, Gerard. See you tomorrow.” He watches Gerard walk back down the hall, hears the murmur as he meets someone coming up the stairs. A minute later Grant comes around the corner into the wing. Frank is both relieved and happy to see him. He’s pretty tired, but he can’t really imagine falling asleep without Grant. Or at least without being able to talk to him for a little while. 

Grant, for his part, smiles as soon as he sees Frank and comes straight to his door. “May I come in, darling?”

“Of course,” Frank replies and steps back to let Grant in. Once he gets the door closed, Frank feels Grant’s hands on his waist, Grant’s lips on the back of his neck. 

“You are more beautiful every time you come here, Frank,” he murmurs against the skin.

Frank sucks in a breath. “Fuck, I missed you.” He turns and wraps his arms round Grant’s neck. “You make everything better. Good.” 

“Great?” Grant asks softly, a smile in his voice.

“Yeah,” Frank agrees. 

“Do you want… that is, would you like me to stay?” Grant asks. “If you’re too tired–”

“I definitely want you to stay,” Frank says firmly, curling his fingers into Grant’s belt.

“Okay,” Grant agrees. 

“I mean, I can’t guarantee I won’t fall asleep on you, but I want you to stay,” Frank adds with a smile. 

“I can think of a few ways to keep you awake for a while,” Grant murmurs.

Frank smiles and leans up. “Sounds good,” he murmurs, and presses his lips to Grant’s. Grant calms Frank down. He always has—ever since Frank was a punk in his early twenties trying to get his escalating abilities under control. He’s really fucking grateful that someone had pointed him in Grant’s direction.

Grant opens his mouth right away, lets Frank’s tongue tease his as easily as - as easily as he does anything, including open his home. He smooths his hands up and down Frank’s back and then into his hair, threading it through his fingers and tugging just the slightest bit. Frank moans into Grant’s mouth. 

They stand there for a long fucking time, just making out. Frank can feel the tension he’s been carrying for the past few weeks- months, if he’s honest- falling away. It had taken half the first visit to admit he wanted this, and the rest, plus the entirety of the second, to convince Grant. Frank had gone home feeling better than he had in a long time. In basically all ways. Now it’s familiar, but still welcome.

They kiss until Frank’s barely staying upright under his own power. He sags a little bit, and Grant wraps an arm around his waist and laughs into his temple. “Let’s get you into bed, now, yeah?” Grant tangles his fingers in the t-shirt Frank’s wearing and starts to steer him backwards. 

“Yeah,” Frank whispers. When the backs of his knees hit the bed, he goes down and tugs Grant with him. 

“How do you feel?” Grant asks, once they’re fully stretched out on the bed, curled around each other. 

“Tired. Turned on.” 

“Does one supersede the other?” Grant asks. 

“Can we-” Frank cuts himself off and lifts his hips to shove his sweats down his thighs. “Wanna touch you. Want your hand. Then sleep.”

“Anything,” Grant tells him. He finds Frank’s lips again and kisses him while he curls his hand around Frank’s cock, and Frank shudders at how _good_ it feels. He doesn’t sleep with anybody at home, not really, not with his power so hard to check. Fuck, he’s missed this. He reaches for Grant, tugging at his own loose yoga pants. Grant slides them down and Frank immediately jerks him a few times. 

“Fuck, I missed your cock.”

Grant hums into the skin of his neck. “Clever hands,” he murmurs, arching agreeably into Frank’s grip.

Frank keeps stroking, loving having Grant under his hands again, loving Grant’s touches. 

“Feel so good,” Frank whispers. He shifts so their hips cradle together, kissing Grant and rocking up into him until he has to gasp to catch his breath.

Grant’s teeth sink into his bottom lip and Frank’s hips stutter against him. Grant gets a hand around both their cocks and Frank moans. 

“I have you, love,” Grant murmurs. “Let go.” 

Frank closes his eyes and tries to listen, thrusting up into Grant’s grip and kissing along the line of his jaw. He feels his power pulse out and then draw back in as he starts to come. The sound that comes out of him is a desperate moan. 

“There,” Grant murmurs, jacking him through it. “There, there.”

He whimpers and slips out of Grant’s grasp as soon as he can, sliding down his body.

Grant breathes out. “Frankie,” he murmurs. 

“Wanna taste you so bad,” Frank says. Grant gasps when Frank’s lips find his hip bones, and he presses kisses there. He strokes his hands over Grant’s leanly-muscled thighs and licks along the crease of his hip, nosing around the base of his cock before licking up the underside. Grant’s hips twitch up and Frank smiles. He’s pretty sure he’s going to enjoy this more than his own orgasm. And he enjoyed that a helluva fucking lot. 

Grant gasps when Frank takes him into his mouth, and Frank feels it all the way down in his gut. He eases back Grant’s foreskin and starts licking and sucking, mouth watering with how fucking much he wants it. He wants to give some of his own desperate fulfillment back to Grant. Grant is big: he fills Frank’s mouth, and Frank loves that. Loves the stretch of his lips and the feel of Grant’s skin against them. And the hum, somewhere just under the surface, that he knows is Grant’s own power—stronger and more constant than his own, but also more tightly controlled. 

It’s that control that Frank has been coming here for so long to learn, but it’s also the control that he loves to destroy, to make Grant writhe and cry out and come. He slides his tongue delicately around he head of Grant’s cock. “Frank,” Grant gasps with a note of pleading in his voice. 

Frank runs his palm up and down Grant’s thigh as he starts sucking in earnest. Grant murmurs, something heavily accented that might be Frank’s name or something else, but it sinks into the background of Frank’s mouth and the buzzing of blood in his ears. He goes down on Grant as far as he can, working his tongue against the base of Grant’s cock and his throat around the head. 

“Frank!” Grant gasps, and his hips jerk. Frank throws an arm over Grant’s thighs and keeps going. Grant’s fingers twist in his hair and Frank pushes up into it a little until Grant grasps more tightly, tugging along with Frank’s rhythm.

Frank bobs his head. He wants Grant to let go completely. To fuck Frank’s mouth until he’s hoarse. 

“Close,” Grant warns, tightly, and Frank hums in response. “Fuck,” he babbles, gasping every word or two, “nothing is the same when you’re not here, darling.”

Frank keeps sucking, hollowing out his cheeks and using one hand to massage Grant’s balls. Grant moans and his hips snap up. Frank feels the flicker of Grant’s power surging up and out from every place where they’re touching. Grant comes nearly silently, but his energy flickers over Frank like a wave. It’s warm and soothing and Frank breathes deep through his nose as he swallows Grant down. 

Afterwards, Grant wraps his arms around Frank and pulls him close; Frank clings back, and they just lay there like that for a while, breathing together. “May I stay?” Grant asks after a while, lips tickling Frank’s forehead where his hair clings damply.

“Please,” Frank replies immediately—maybe a little desperately—and squeezes his arms around Grant. Grant runs a hand up and down Frank’s back, soothing. Frank buries his face in Grant’s neck and just breathes him in. 

After a while, when Frank’s breath is coming easy again, Grant says, “It got bad this time, didn’t it?”

“I’ve been - out of control. And the worse it got, the more shit I broke, the more upset I got, and -” 

“I understand,” Grant murmurs. 

“I thought I could control it. I even tried therapy again,” Frank tells him. “But I just…”

“I’m sure you did everything you could,” Grant tells him, and Frank knows that he means it. Grant was the one who’d given him many of the tools he uses to control his abilities, after all. And Grant’s always seemed to have more faith in Frank than Frank himself. 

“I can’t live the rest of my life drugged to my eyeballs,” Frank says, and he hates how fucking _defeated_ he sounds, even to himself. 

Grant hums, rubbing soothing circles on Frank’s back. “I finished the pipe organ,” he says after a moment.

Frank lifts his head to grin down at Grant. “Really? I can’t wait to play it.”

“It’s great fun,” Grant says. “And it’s big enough for duets, as well.” 

“Are you going to play a duet with me?” Frank asks sweetly. 

“I thought we just did,” Grant smirks.

Frank rolls his eyes. “No, seriously. It’d be fun.” 

“Of course,” Grant agrees. “And you’ll play guitar for me, won’t you? Your things are still set up in the music room.” 

“You’re distracting me on purpose,” Frank points out. 

“Is it working?” Grant asks. 

Frank leans down to kiss Grant’s chest softly. “Yeah.”

“Good,” Grant says. “You should sleep now, darling.”

“’Kay,” Frank whispers, stretching for one last taste of Grant’s lips. He suddenly feels deeply exhausted and it’s totally natural, not drug-induced. Grant murmurs a goodnight into Frank’s hair, and that’s the last thing Frank knows before morning.

* 

Frank typically wakes much earlier than Grant—unless Grant doesn’t bother to sleep, which has been known to happen—and the next morning is no exception. Waking up next to Grant is one of Frank’s favorite feelings. He goes up on an elbow and just drinks him in for a moment before getting up to pee. 

The thing he has with Grant is different than any other relationship he’s ever had—or tried to have, anyway. They’re not dating. But it’s not casual when they fuck: never has been. Frank has no fucking idea what to call it. He doesn’t tell people at home about him, either, but Grant’s usually somewhere in the back of his mind. 

He can already tell that leaving is going to be really fucking hard this time. Grant calms him down. It’s always been true, even before they’d started fucking. He tugs on some sweats and tiptoes out of the room, heading for the kitchen and coffee and trying to ignore the voice that’s already whispering, _No one said you have to leave._

When he gets downstairs, he finds Vince and Gerard already seated at the table with mugs in front of them. “Good morning!” says Vince. “Sleep well, Frankie?”

Vince knows everything about Frank and Grant, of course, but wouldn’t bring it up in front of a guest. So Frank just smiles and nods. “I did,” he says, going over to make his own cup of coffee."“Better than I have… probably since the last time I was here.” 

He sets a mug under the spout and sets the machine spinning. There’s a familiar chirp from the table, and he looks back to see Archibald peeking out from Gerard’s shoulder. “He showed up back in my room last night,” Gerard explains, blearily. 

“Yeah, I let him out after he inspected my luggage,” Frank says. _Before I fucked our host._

He spoons a little sugar into his coffee and sits. Archibald skitters down Gerard’s arm and up Frank’s. “Hello, widget,” Frank says, tapping Archie with the spoon. Archie chirps. Frank smiles and sips his coffee. 

“So, he told me he finished the pipe organ,” Frank says to Vince. 

“It’s completely mad,” Vince tells him, cheerfully. “Thought he was going to bring the place down around our ears.”

“Typical.” Frank chuckles. “Gerard, do you play anything?”

“Lots of things. I mean, some not very _well_ , but I can muddle my way through. Getting better at guitar and piano, though,” he replies. 

“Awesome,” Frank says. “Have you checked out the music room yet?”

“Not really.” 

“Well, get ready. I’ll drag you in there to play for a while at some point.” He doesn’t phrase it as a question. 

Gerard smiles. “Okay. I keep meaning to. I write music. I just keep getting caught up in writing or drawing.”

“You have a lot going on up here,” Vince says, poking at Gerard’s head with a finger. 

“Too much,” Gerard says. He sounds breezy, but Frank thinks part of him means it.

“I paint for fun,” Frank says. “And I write. Mostly poetry and song lyrics. But I’m mostly all about music.”

“Fucking awesome,” Gerard says, grinning at him. 

“Who’s awesome?” Grant chimes in, sounding sleepy and looking rumpled as he appears in the doorway.

“Frank,” Gerard replies. 

A broad smile spreads across Grant’s face. “He is indeed.”

Vince starts breakfast, and pretty soon the kitchen is full of warmth and good smells. Grant absentmindedly pets Frank’s hair on the way to the coffee maker. Frank smiles. He’s so fucking glad to be back here. 

Gerard starts looking more human after his second cup of coffee, and Grant asks them about their plans for the day. “We’ll do some one-on-one, Frank, but if you’d like, I thought I might do a group session this afternoon?”

He’s about to say no when he catches the hopeful expression on Grant’s face and reconsiders. Hiding from everyone is a bad plan. He knows it, but he’s so used to it. He doesn’t have to here. “Yeah, that’d be good,” Frank says and Gerard smiles. He’s got a great smile, Frank notices. 

“This afternoon, then,” Grant says, sounding pleased. 

Frank nods and goes over to the stove to help Vince with the platters for breakfast. Other than the house itself, sessions with Grant are the main draw of this place for most guests. He’s actually always been really touched that Grant wants to include him, since he isn’t technical one of the artists. But Grant had insisted, and Frank’s glad of it. There’s a painting he did his second or third time here hanging in one of the reading rooms off the library—Frank’s favorite one, with the big windows. Every time Frank walks past it, he gets a little thrill. 

He suspects that Grant knows this. He’s never really tried to keep anything secret from Grant, anyway. 

They eat their breakfast in sleepy silence broken up by brief bits of friendly conversation. Gerard gets up first. “I’m going to go to the studio in the carriage house. The light up there is killer in the morning.”

“It is,” Vince agrees. “I’ll be along. Sorry for the mess I left in my corner.” 

Vince heads out a few minutes later. Grant looks at Frank once they’re alone. “That leaves us, darling.”

“Can we go up to your workshop?” Frank asks. “I want… I just wanna be with you while you work.” Frank doesn’t know why he always feels so awkward asking. Frank spends quite a lot of time in Grant’s workshop sitting in a chair and reading. But he always feels odd asking the first time. 

“Of course,” Grant tells him. “I was planning to do some meditation this morning, if you’re interested. It might help.”

“I… guess it might,” Frank says, feeling his cheeks go a little hot. 

Grant stands and offers a hand to Frank. “Come along, Frankie. I promise not to wax poetic about Buddhism.” 

Frank grins at him. “I definitely need more coffee for that.”

“Or less, perhaps.” Grant doesn’t let go of his hand as they walk down the hall. Frank squeezes his hand and takes a deep breath. He feels like he doesn’t need anything but this, but he’s pretty okay with meditating, too. As long as Grant’s there. 

* * *

Gerard had intended to spend his time at Invisible Manor focusing on his writing. But ever since his arrival, he’s found himself drawn to the visual arts in a way he hasn’t been since SVA. He’s spending just as much time in the studio above the carriage house as he is at the writing desk in his bedroom. Vince is almost as inspiring in that area as Grant is as a writer, and it makes Gerard sad that he’s getting ready to leave the Manor for a while.

“Cameron and I switch off,” Vince tells him. “Both of us have work we do that requires pesky things like Internet connections.”

Gerard is excited to meet Cameron Stewart, but apparently he won’t be arriving for a couple of weeks after Vince leaves. “Who’s going to cook?” Gerard asks, alarmed.

“Grant’s sister set a delivery schedule up with a lady in town. Other than that, you have to fend for yourselves. You are immensely lucky you have Frankie here, for that.”

“Oh good. I mean, I can make sandwiches. And pancakes. And chickpea curry. That’s the extent of my culinary skill,” Gerard explains. 

“Grant’s about the same,” Vince says. “You’re very lucky indeed.” 

They spend the morning in companionable silence. Gerard sketches, pen scratching against the parchment of his notebook as he chases the shape of the idea in his mind’s eye. Vince is carefully inking one of his huge detailed drawings. He doesn’t seem to mind Gerard muttering under his breath every once in a while. Probably because he’s used to Grant. 

Gerard looks at his drawing. He’s not sure what he’s doing. “Do you think… maybe what I’m writing would work better as a comic.”

“I think you’re the only one who can say for sure,” Vince says, and he laughs at the look Gerard throws him. “May I have a look, Gerard?”

Gerard pushes his work toward Vince. “This is a scene I was working on last night. I keep drawing everything I’m writing.”

Vince nods and hums as he takes Gerard’s notebook. “I see what you mean,” he says, tapping a finger on a character sketch. “Your line work is really nice, by the by. I think maybe you ought to take a break. Sit down with what you know of your story. Try to do an outline. Yes?” 

Gerard nods. “Probably a good idea. I thought I knew, but the drawings keep taking on a life of their own and changing things.”

“I find that happens a lot around here,” Vince says, sagely. 

“I suppose it would,” Gerard replies. “So, this group session this afternoon, what can I expect?”

“It’s not too unlike what we’re doing now. Just with a little more focus. And more talk about inspiration,” Vince says. 

“I could use some focus,” Gerard says ruefully. 

“You’ll find it.” Vince hands the sketchbook back and goes back to his table. “And Frank and Grant are well able to occupy themselves if you do get back into a groove.”

Gerard smiles. “I’m sure they’ve both got lots of projects.” 

“True enough,” Vince agrees.

Gerard likes Frank a lot, but he’s a tiny bit jealous too. He almost hates to even admit to the thought. It’s just. He and Grant are obviously really close. Gerard has plenty of amazing friends, but there’s something about Grant that draws him in. There’s a little part of him that wishes he’d had a little bit more of Grant’s focus to himself. Like the night they’d walked by the loch. Gerard isn’t sure if that will happen again.

And then it makes him feel bad because Frank has obviously been having a hard time of it and he deserves some special attention, really. Frank seems like a really great guy, and Gerard genuinely does want to get to know him better. Not _quite_ as much as he’d like to know Grant better, but. Fuck, he’s got to stop this. Time to start concentrating on work and not his sad excuse for a personal life.

He shakes his head and goes back to his drawing. This character has been giving him fits. 

When he sees Frank again at lunch time, he looks a hell of a lot better than he had last night, or even this morning. He’s clearly showered, for one thing. And the smile he gives Gerard when he walks into the kitchen doesn’t seem quite so worn around the edges. 

“Hi,” Gerard says. “I was told we need to get ready to fend for ourselves in here. Want a sandwich?”

“I could eat a sandwich. Possibly, like, ten sandwiches,” Frank replies. “I tend to… I have stomach problems as it is. When things get bad… eating is last priority.” He says it with this self-deprecating smile that makes Gerard’s heart ache for him, a little bit. 

“I’ll make you the first one, and you can let me know about numbers two to ten, okay?” Gerard smiles encouragingly.

“Sounds good,” Frank replies. 

“What do you want on it?” Gerard asks. 

“Lettuce, tomato, facon if there is any, and cheese,” Frank replies and moves toward the coffee maker. “Coffee?”

“Always,” Gerard says, laughing. “In fact, never ask, just pour.”

Frank giggles. “Got it. Coffee at all times.” 

“Basically.” Gerard opens the old-fashioned icebox and starts rummaging around for sandwich ingredients. It’s strange to see ordinary things like mayonnaise and a jar of pickles sitting in a device that looks like something out of the Victorian era. It might be from the Victorian era, actually. The appliances all show at least some evidence of Grant’s tinkering, but they also look like they’ve been in this kitchen for a long time. Gerard starts putting the sandwiches together. 

“Have a good morning?” he asks companionably. 

“Better than I’ve had in a while,” Frank admits.

“That’s good news, right?” 

“It would be if I knew I could continue the trend at home,” Frank says.

“I’m sorry. I can’t even imagine. Must fucking suck,” Gerard says. 

“I- yeah,” Frank agrees. He busies himself with the coffee. “How do you take it?” he asks after a moment. “Cream? Sugar?”

“Both,” Gerard replies. “White and sweet.” Gerard looks up to see Frank make a face. “What? It’s good!” 

“Uh huh,” Frank says, dubiously. Gerard hands him a big overstuffed sandwich, and Frank’s eyes light up. “Shit, that looks good,” Frank breathes. “Thanks.” 

“No problem,” Gerard says and tops his own sandwich with a slice of bread. He sits down with Frank. “You have now experienced the extent of my cooking ability.”

“I think we’ll be okay,” Frank says, grinning at him. 

“Vince says you cook?” 

“Only for people I like,” Frank replies.

“Well, I hope you like me,” Gerard says. “Otherwise I’m going to be eating a lot of sandwiches for a while.”

Frank laughs. “Nah, you seem all right. Plus, my grandma would kick my ass from the other side if she ever found out I didn’t feed somebody.”

“So would mine,” Gerard says. He’s glad he can smile about Elena now. “I mean, you’d only get sandwiches or curry, but I’d try my best not to let her down.”

They talk about Jersey for a little while; Frank tells Gerard about his job as a session guitarist for a friend’s extremely DIY recording studio. “I basically help him out with anything that needs doing. I wanted to start doing more producing, but… Well.  I don’t blame him for not wanting me in the studio some days.”

“I don’t know what I’d do if I couldn’t write or draw, fuck,” Gerard says. The very idea is fucking terrifying.

Frank shrugs. “Luckily, I don’t _need_ electricity to make music. I just…”

“It’s hard to thrash on an acoustic guitar,” Gerard offers, and Frank nods. “Sorry,” Gerard adds, “we don’t have to talk about it.”

Frank waves a hand and takes a sip of his coffee. “It’s probably good for me. Therapy didn’t work, but maybe talking to a friend would.”

“Any time,” Gerard says, and he means it. The smile Frank gives him says he can tell. “I mean, I’m sure you’d rather talk to Grant, but, I’m going to be around for a while. So.”

“Actually… talking to Grant always helps, but he’s… he understands and he’s really empathetic, but… talking to someone else is good.”

“Well, like I said. Any time.”

Grant himself walks into the kitchen on the heels of Gerard’s sentence. He’s still wearing yoga pants and a long sleeved tee and makes a beeline for the stove and the kettle, but diverts midway to kiss the top of Frank’s head. It’s an action Gerard normally would have associated with lovers. Maybe relatives. And this isn’t the first time he’s seen it. But this is an odd house and these aren’t typical people. 

“Sorry I’m late,” Grant says. “I got caught up in working on- well, anyway. Ooh, that sandwich looks good.”

“Gerard made it,” Frank says, leaning his head against Grant’s chest for a moment.

Gerard’s breath catches for half a second. “I’ll make you one,” he offers evenly. 

“That would be wonderful,” Grant tells him, and fuck, his smile is still something else. “Did you leave Vincent to his own devices?”

Gerard nods. “He was inking.” 

“That’ll do it,” Grant replies. 

Gerard walks over to the icebox and starts pulling out sandwich ingredients again. He looks over at Frank. “Up for another one? Or nine?”

Frank nods. “Just one, though.” 

“You need to eat more,” Grant tells him. 

“Go make your tea,” Frank replies.

This little exchange, their tones of voice, their expressions, goes even further to convincing Gerard that they’re lovers. Which… well. He can’t say he’s not a little disappointed, for selfish reasons. He won’t ask, though. So he probably won’t know for sure. He mentally shakes it off and starts on Grant’s sandwich. “Requests?” 

“Same as Frank’s,” Grant replies. 

Of course. “We’re going to run out of facon,” Gerard warns.

“I’ll put it on the list,” Grant replies. He fills the teapot and squeezes Gerard’s shoulder on his way to the tea canister. Just the brief contact makes Gerard feel stupidly good. Maybe Grant and Frank are both just touchy people. Maybe he’s making something out of nothing. He hands off sandwiches to Grant and Frank and sips his own coffee. 

“Thank you,” Grant tells him with a sweet smile. “Did you have a productive morning?” 

“I did, yeah,” Gerard tells him. He fidgets a little. “I, uh. I think maybe the project I’ve been working on is going to take a different direction than I originally thought.”

“Nothing wrong with that,” Grant says. “Anything you need to discuss?”

“I think I’ll bring everything to the group session and see what you guys think,” Gerard says. 

Grant grins at him. “Excellent. I look forward to seeing what you’ve been working on.”

“Me too,” Frank chimes in.

Gerard smiles at them. “It’ll be fun to show you. I fucking love this story.”

Once they’ve finished eating, Frank gets up and fiddles with the coffeemaker again while Gerard and Grant talk about some of Gerard’s previous work. Gerard is caught up in a story, and it takes him by surprise when Frank sets a mug of coffee—white and sweet—by his elbow, before sitting back down with his own cup.

Somewhere along the line he’s swung from vague irritation at Frank’s comfort here to appreciation that he’s included in it. He loves it, really. But in the back of his head, he’s still aware of it. 

“We’ll be meeting in the west drawing room,” Grant tells them. “Does an hour suit? I have a few things I’d like to finish up.”

They both nod in agreement. Gerard automatically starts cleaning up.

“Hey, you made the food,” Frank says, standing. “I’ll clean up.”

Gerard huffs, but Frank is insistent. He actually hip checks Gerard away from the sink, which when Gerard realizes it, makes him giggle. “Fine, you win,” Gerard says, throwing up his hands. “I’ll drink more coffee.”

“That’s the spirit,” Frank says, patting him on the shoulder.

Gerard settles down and watches Frank clean, which is probably weird, but he’s nice to look at. Really nice. He’s got a gorgeous face. A good body, tattoos peaking out from every place Gerard can see skin. 

Gerard kind of wants to draw him. And abruptly, a character in his story—his comic—flowers to full technicolor life. He gets up to grab his sketch book and pencil from where he left it on the counter and sits back down. He flips to a fresh page and starts sketching outlines. It’s enough to occupy him until Frank’s watching him work instead.

He startles when Frank clears his throat and gives him an amused smile. “You get really into it, huh?”

“Always,” Gerard confirms. “Is it time?”

“Yeah, nearly. Go get your things and meet you there?” Frank suggests. 

“Cool,” Gerard says. Markers. He’s definitely going to need markers.

*

Grant is back in regular clothing when Gerard walks into the drawing room, which in contrast is ridiculously ornate. It’s the kind of place Gerard was always a little afraid of as a kid. Like if he moved wrong, it would all come crashing down around his ears. Now, he just enjoys the contrast of them in their casual clothes, sprawling on the fancy furniture. 

Frank walks in a moment later, holding a notebook. Gerard assumes he’s going to share the small couch that Grant is sitting on, but he makes for a plush armchair off to one side. Gerard’s mind’s eye is already making note of how he curls himself into the cushions. He looks… adorable, really. He’s happy now, but Gerard can easily imagine him sitting like that when feeling distressed. 

There’s a familiar chirp, and Archibald patters through the doorway, making straight for Gerard. Then he must notice Frank, and it’s hilarious to watch him try and figure out where he wants to go.

“You daft little gear bucket, I sympathize,” Grant laughs. 

Gerard bites his lip to keep from grinning too wide. He doesn’t even mind when Archibald jumps up into Frank’s lap. 

Grant eyes Frank and Archibald. “Well, if we’re all seated comfortably, shall we begin?”

“I’m ready,” Frank replies. 

Gerard nods. “Frank, why don’t you go first.” 

Frank huffs a little, but he cracks open his notebook. It’s well-worn; he’s obviously had it a long time. He starts reading a poem—or maybe it’s song lyrics—and Gerard soon forgets about his notebook. He’s pretty good. Has vivid imagery and smart things to say. Gerard definitely wants to hear or read more. 

“Very good,” Grant says, when Frank’s finished. He looks… Gerard doesn’t really know what to make of the way he’s looking at Frank. It’s like he’s proud and astonished and sad at the same time. Also like he could eat him up with a spoon, which should be distressing but instead ends up making Gerard’s gut tingle in an unexpected way.

“I think that’s lyrics. But I don’t have the song yet,” Frank says. 

“Shit, yeah,” Gerard says, because he can totally see Frank screaming those words down a mic. 

“Are you planning on writing music next?” Grant asks.

Frank nods and then laughs a little. “Maybe I’ll write it on the organ for shits and giggles.”

Grant nods, grinning. “Unconventional, perhaps, but it would be fucking fun to hear.” He starts asking Frank some more in-depth questions about the themes in the lyrics and his general thought process, and Gerard just listens. And watches them talk. And after a while starts doodling.

“And how about you, Gerard?” Grant says. “What have you been working on so busily since your arrival?”

Gerard looks down at his sketchbook, where the character inspired by Frank is facing off against a looming masked figure.  “I thought I was writing a new story,” he says. “But it wants to be a comic.”

“Then you should let it be a comic,” Grant says.

“I haven’t done a comic since—fuck, art school?” 

“Is there a rule against doing more?” Frank teases, then clamps his mouth shut like he thought better of it.

Gerard smiles. “No, I just. Want to be sure it’s right for the story.”

“It sounds like you’re already fairly sure,” Grant says. “Tell us about what you have so far? Or show.”

Gerard flips to the start of the character sketches and hands the book over to Grant. Grant tugs him down on the sofa beside him. Frank comes and fits himself into a gap on the other side of Grant. It’s cozy, but not uncomfortable, and Gerard starts flipping through the pages of his sketchbook, explaining the story. 

They mostly listen, but Frank bounces a little when Gerard gets to the latest pages. “That’s me!”

Gerard grins at him. “Yeah. Hope you don’t mind? Your face just… fit.”

“No way, it’s fucking cool,” Frank says.

Gerard grins wider. “Okay, good. I mean, the character is mostly just a little like you on the surface, so I’m not like. Trying to write your fictionalized biography or anything.”

“That would be boring as shit,” Frank laughs. 

“No it wouldn’t,” Grant protests.

“I think I agree with Grant,” Gerard says. “You’re plenty interesting.”

“See,” Grant says smugly. “Gerard agrees with me.”

“You could insult the queen and get her to agree with you,” Frank says. 

Grant makes a face at him, and again, Gerard is nearly sure they are about to kiss. Instead, Grant just smiles and pulls back. “I do think it would work well as a comic,” he says. “You’ve got a lot of action and great visuals that the art you’ve done really brings to life.”

Gerard retrieves his sketchbook and retreats to his chair. Grant starts asking him questions, this time, and there’s no chance of Gerard getting distracted in the face of that.

“What about you, Grant?” Gerard asks when they’re pretty much done discussing Gerard’s work. “What are you working on?”

“Any number of things, as usual. You saw my workshop, of course.”

Gerard nods. “Any writing lately? Or is that on hold for your workshop projects?”

“I write in the evenings, sometimes. There’s something I really want to finish,” he replies.

Gerard smiles. “I know that feeling. And nothing is ever finished, not really.”

“Very deep,” Frank teases. 

Grant laughs. “Frank, you know full well what that feels like. Don’t pretend otherwise.”

“It’s just fun to bother him,” Frank protests.

“I don’t mind,” Gerard grins. “Teasing seems to be a sign that you like me well enough.” Gerard isn’t sure if he imagines the considering glance from Grant. Fuck, he didn’t mean it that way.

Frank just grins. “Exactly. No use giving people shit when I don’t like them.”

“That seems backwards,” Gerard says, crossing his arms.

Frank laughs. “I mean, I give assholes shit all the time, but it’s not nearly as fun.”

“We seem to have gotten off track,” Grant comments.

“Sorry,” Frank says, not sounding very sorry at all. 

“Shall we adjourn?” Grant asks.

Part of Gerard wants to keep talking to them, but he also wants to go back and start implementing some of their ideas. He looks at the wall clock and is surprised at the time. “Oh! I suppose we should,” he says. He gets up and tucks his book under his arm. “Thanks,” he says.

“You’re welcome,” Grant says. “We can do it again tomorrow if you both like.” He smiles encouragingly, mostly at Frank. 

“Yeah, definitely,” Frank says. “It was good.”

“See you both at dinner,” Grant says politely. He leaves the room and it’s just Frank and Gerard left. 

“I really liked your lyrics,” Gerard offers.

“Thanks,” Frank replies. “I’m constantly writing them and throwing at the wall to see if they stick. I’ll probably hate them this time next week.”

“Well, they’re fucking great, so I think you should try not to do that.”

“We’ll see,” Frank says with a small smile.

“Think I’m gonna go draw now,” Gerard says. 

“See you at dinner,” Frank replies.

Gerard gets so caught up in everything he’s doing, that he almost forgets to go to dinner. This time he’s the one who stumbles in ten minutes late, ink on his fingers. Frank looks up first, then Vince and Grant a second later.

“Hi, sorry,” Gerard says sheepishly. “I guess the group session was really fucking inspiring.”

“Glad to hear it,” Grant says, grinning broadly at him. “Come and sit down - Vince has outdone himself this evening.” 

“To make up for neglecting you at lunch,” Vince adds. Gerard sits and accepts a platter.

“Oh god, it smells so good,” Gerard says. “Didn’t realize how hungry I was.”

“You’re the kind of person who forgets to eat when you’re working, huh?” Frank asks.

“Don’t forget we can send food up to your room,” Vince says. “Glad to.” 

“But it’s nice to share a meal,” Grant adds.

Gerard nods. “I’ll keep that in mind. It’s true that sharing a meal is pretty great.”

Grant nods. “That’s why I rigged the clocks to tell the house when meals roll around.”

It’s a segue into talk of Grant’s inventions for a while. Conversation turns to history; to politics; to art. But Gerard excuses himself after coffee, and ends up working late into the night. He falls into bed feeling pretty good about everything he’s working on and when he wakes up, he goes downstairs, gets coffee, and goes back to it. 

He works through the morning, and it’s not until there’s a knock at the door is the artist’s suite that he surfaces. 

“You missed lunch,” Frank says. “I brought you a sandwich. Unless you’re coming down for our group session?”

“Oh!” Gerard says. “I… maybe? I’m kind of in a groove, but maybe stopping and evaluating would be good?”

“Whatever you want to do,” Frank grins. “Grant’s kind of doing the same thing you are, actually.” 

“Did you bring him a sandwich too?” Gerard asks, taking the wax paper-wrapped bread and unwrapping a corner.

“Yup,” Frank replies. “Sandwiches for everyone.” 

Archibald peers around Frank’s leg and chirps inquisitively. “Did you miss me?” Gerard asks, even though that’s ridiculous.

Frank smiles. “We did. Archibald was looking for you, too.”

“Sorry,” Gerard tells Archibald, and he finds that he completely means it. 

“Are you coming down?” Frank asks, looking at the sandwich Gerard is nibbling on.

“I… think I’ll stay for today? I’m making so much progress,” Gerard replies. 

“All right,” Frank says. “I’ll tell Grant. See you at dinner?” Gerard nods and smiles. “Happy creating,” Frank says cheerfully. “You wanna keep Archibald?”

“If he wants to stay,” Gerard offers.

Archie chirps and scurries under Gerard’s desk. “Guess that’s a yes,” Frank chuckles. “See you.” He leaves; Gerard waves and turns back to his desk. 

He’s deep in his own head when the clock chimes for dinner, so it doesn’t really register at first. And then Archibald runs into his leg insistently.

“Ow,” he says, startled. “Dinner. Right,” he says and scoots back. He almost hates to go, but he promised Frank. He’s gotten a lot done today—maybe it will be good to give himself the break. “Archie, take me to Frank?” he asks the tiny creature. Archie makes an excited chirping sound and skitters toward the stairs. Gerard grins and follows. 

Dinner smells amazing—spicy and full of warmth. He hears Grant laughing as he approaches the kitchen. Gerard pads in his stocking feet toward the kitchen door, but freezes with a hand on the door jamb. Grant is leaning down, platter of food in hand, to kiss Frank, who is giggling against his lips. Well. There’s confirmation, anyway. 

Archibald clatters into the kitchen, and Grant and Frank break apart, grinning at each other. Frank sees Gerard first, and his cheeks color. “Thought you’d forget about dinner too,” he says through his blush.

Gerard forces a smile onto his face. “I promised. Also, Archie was sort of insistent.”

“Good work,” Grant tells Archibald, who trills happily. He proffers the platter. “Middle Eastern tonight. Vince is spoiling us. Frank insists his chopping made the difference, though.”

Gerard smiles. “I’m sure it really improved the entire meal.” 

“Made with love,” Frank insists. 

Gerard bites his lip. “I’m sure. Can I help with anything?” he asks. 

“I think we’ve got it all,” Grant replies. “Let’s sit.”

They troop into the dining room, where Vince is waiting with the rest of the food. It’s an impressive spread. Frank and Grant are talkative tonight, practically stumbling over the ends of each others’ sentences. _What did I miss?_ Gerard wonders as he fills his plate. 

“Gee, you have to come out tonight. There’s supposed to be a meteor shower,” Frank says. 

That sounds… romantic. He might not know what Grant and Frank _are_ , exactly, but Gerard doesn’t want to be in the way. “I don’t know,” he stalls, forking food into his mouth.

“There’s no lights around anywhere for miles,” Grant tells him. “You’ll never see the sky as clearly as you will by the loch.” He sounds like he honestly wants Gerard to come.

“Okay,” Gerard replies, finally. “I should probably take a break anyway. Let it sit.” Great. Why did he say yes to that? He takes a sip of his drink and stares at the gaslight flickering over his glass. “What did you guys do at the session this afternoon?” Gerard asks, after a moment. Fuck. He probably shouldn’t have said that, either.

When Frank grins, it’s not dirty, though. “He made me edit all my shit like a hardass.”

Gerard makes an exaggerated grimace. “Good thing I skipped that. I am so fucking terrible at editing.”

“Oh, I’ll get you yet,” Grant says. 

“It’s not actually that bad,” Frank whispers, theatrically. “He’s good at incentive.” This time it’s Gerard who blushes.

Grant and Frank aren’t overtly couple-y during dinner; they actually end up discussing some of the art installations around the grounds. It’s nice. Just like every meal with them has been. He just…can’t stop thinking about them kissing.

When dinner is over, he jumps up and offers to do the dishes. Vince agrees whole-heartedly, but Gerard is somewhat foiled when Grant says, “I’ll help.” They clear the table and Gerard fills the sink with hot water and squirts in some soap. “So, you’re making good progress?” Grant asks. 

“I’ve finished my outline and I’m starting to thumbnail out some panels here and there,” Gerard says, waggling fingers with ink stains all over. “I’m hoping the dishwater helps.”

“That’s quite a bit of progress in just a few days,” Grant says, and he sounds pleased. 

“Once I started with the idea, I couldn’t stop,” Gerard says with a grin and scrubs the pan he has in his hands. 

“Clearly. Glad you emerged, though.” Grant runs the dish towel through his fingers, looking like he’s considering something. “I hope you’re finding your stay here to be enjoyable,” is what he finally says. But Gerard gets the feeling that isn’t what he was going to say, originally.

“I am. Very much,” Gerard replies and it’s entirely true. He wouldn’t trade it for anything, wouldn’t have chosen to do anything else.

“To be honest, I haven’t had a guest I’ve enjoyed talking to so much in some time,” Grant tells him.

“I’m really glad I came here,” Gerard tells him, and Grant grins at him warmly.

“You are welcome to stay however long you like and you are always welcome whenever you want to come back,” Grant says. 

Gerard likes the sound of that, a lot. “I get Frank’s deal?” the devil in him says.

“If you want it,” Grant replies.

“I want,” Gerard confirms. He means it in all possible ways. He can feel Grant’s eyes on him, but he turns back to the sink. After a minute, Grant changes the subject, and they finish up the dishes companionably. 

“You should get a jacket if you’re coming out,” Grant says when they’re done. “It’s been chilly the last few days.”

Gerard nods absently. “Meet you in the foyer.” He’s just going to look at a meteor shower, that’s all. Totally not awkward.

As he climbs the stairs back up to the artist’s suite, he tells himself sternly that it doesn’t matter to him what’s between Grant and Frank. He shrugs on his jacket and goes back downstairs. It’ll be fun. He’ll see a meteor shower. He won’t be the third wheel on a romantic walk. And then he’ll come back inside, make another cup of coffee, and get back to work. 

It’ll be fine. 

Right. If he tells himself that enough times, maybe he’ll actually believe it.

* * *

Grant is pleased Gerard came down for dinner and he knows Frank is too. Gerard fits into their circle in a way that other guests rarely do. It is… unfortunate that Gerard had caught them kissing earlier. They usually try to be more discreet, but it’s only because they’re so comfortable around him.

Grant pulls on a jacket and, after a moment’s pause, grabs a scarf to take down for Frank. Then he laughs at himself. When he gets to the foyer, Frank is there, bouncing on his toes. Grant holds out the scarf. 

“You’ll thank me later,” he says preemptively. 

“Maybe I will,” Frank waggles his eyebrows.

“You’re incorrigible,” Grant tells him, laughing. 

“You love it,” Frank points out. 

“Of course I do,” Grant replies. Just then, Gerard clatters into the foyer. Grant wonders if he was being noisy on purpose. He’s all tousled hair over leather, and eyes that are curiously shuttered. If Frank notices this, he doesn’t say anything about it. He just says, “Let’s go?”

Grant wants to hold Frank’s hand, but he thinks better of it and puts his hands in his pockets. “It’s gorgeous out,” Gerard breathes. 

“It’s rarely so clear at night,” Grant replies. “Even without the light pollution.”

The autumn air is chilly—he’s glad he’d brought Frank that scarf, daft as he may have felt about it—but the stars are more than worth it.

Frank links his arm with Gerard’s and Grant trails behind them as they walk.  Now Grant is especially confused. Or perhaps he’s just being too arrogant, assuming Gerard has developed an interest in him. He laughs at himself quietly. He never could do things the easy way.

“Something funny back there?” Gerard asks. 

“Hmm. Stray thoughts only amusing to myself. Take the left path up ahead, there’s a terrace up the hillside that will offer a good viewing platform,” he instructs.

“You got it,” Frank says. 

Gerard looks quickly down at his and Frank’s linked arms, and then darts a glance back at Grant. Grant smiles at him and Gerard looks momentarily confused before turning straight ahead again. Frank tugs him closer and asks him something about New Jersey. Grant isn’t sure if it’s calculated or not, but it seems to ease the tense set of Gerard’s shoulders somewhat. By the time they reach the terrace, Gerard is laughing at Frank’s increasingly ridiculous story. 

They reach the viewing platform and Frank leans against the rail and Gerard settles close next to him. Grant pulls a face in the dark and settles himself on Gerard’s other side. They stand there together, peering up into the sky and waiting. No one says anything, but it doesn’t feel like an awkward kind of silence.

The first meteor streaks through the sky and Grant feels Gerard gasp beside him. Grant reaches out automatically to squeeze his fingers. Gerard squeezes back, staring in wonder up a the sky. “I’ve never seen anything like this before,” he murmurs. 

“We should get out the telescope sometime,” Frank says. “It’s amazing how much the city lights block from view. I forget that’s up there when I’m in Jersey.”

“Of course Grant has a telescope.” 

“I have a tower,” Grant huffs.

“I’m surprised you don’t have a fucking _moat_ ,” Gerard tells him.

“Oh, now that could be _fun_ ,” Grant says. 

“Oh no,” Frank moans. “You’ve done it now.”

“Wet blanket,” Grant tells him. He thinks Frank and Gerard have fingers intertwined as well. He’s a little surprised at how affecting he finds that idea. He rather likes the feel of Gerard’s hand in his right now as well. He likes the rapport the three of them have together. “Strange to get such a vision of beauty from flame and destruction,” Grant comments.

Frank laughs, warm in the darkness. “You’re a poet, Grant.”

“You’re more of a poet than I,” Grant murmurs. “I just dabble.” 

“I don’t think you really understand the meaning of that word,” Gerard laughs. He tugs away gently, walking across the terrace.

“I wish I had my camera,” Frank murmurs. 

“We can come back out tomorrow night,” Grant offers. “The shower will last a few more days.”

“All right,” Frank says, leaning up against him. “I’m okay with looking for now.”

“It’s an amazing view,” Gerard says, quietly. 

“It is,” Grant replies, eyes on Gerard in the light of the moon and stars. 

Gerard starts pacing again. “It’s getting colder.”

“Then get back over here,” Frank tells him. Gerard laughs and squeezes in between them again. Grant wraps an arm around his shoulders and Frank his waist. Grant points out constellations with his free hand. Frank shares his own, highly irreverent take on their myths, and Grant feels Gerard’s shoulders shake with laughter. Every now and again they pause as another meteor streaks across the sky.

Grant can’t think of anywhere else in the world he would rather be. 

Some time later, Frank announces, “Okay, I’m officially too cold. Even _with_ the scarf.”

“Then let’s get you and your scarf inside,” Grant says, tweaking the scarf in question. Frank huffs, but he lets Grant take his hand and tug him back towards the house—though, not before linking his arm with Gerard’s again.

When they get back inside, Grant leads them to the kitchen. “Cocoa?” he asks.

“I’ll make it,” Frank says. 

“If you insist,” Grant agrees. 

He walks over to the little panel of controls next to the kitchen fireplace and fiddles with it until it flares to life. Gerard sits at the table without removing his jacket. Grant sits next to him, pulling his chair close. “Frank and I-” he begins hesitantly.

“You don’t have to-” Gerard starts to say.

Grant squeezes his hand. “Sometimes when he’s here, we’re lovers.” He sees Frank go still by the kettle, listening, and continues softly. “I’ve always let the choice be his. When someone is in residence, we try not to… We try to keep it separate. So you must tell us if you’re bothered. If you-”

“It’s fine,” Gerard says, equally soft. He takes a deep breath and says, “I’m not- it’s fine.”

Frank hasn’t moved, and there’s new tension in his body: Grant suspects they may need to have a talk about the terms of their relationship. But everything he told Gerard is true as things stand now. Grant’s not one to leave things unsaid.

Frank brings the cocoa over to the table. “Grandma’s recipe,” he tells Gerard.

Gerard smiles up at him and takes a sip. “Oh my god, _real_ hot cocoa.”

“Grandma knew what she was doing,” Frank replies. “And so do I.”

“You’re a wonder,” Grant agrees.

Frank smirks. “I really am.” He takes a sip of his own mug. “Fuck, I _am_ good.”

“Was never in any doubt,” Gerard mumbles.

Frank grins at Gerard, and fuck, it takes Grant’s breath away. Gorgeous. They’re gorgeous. He takes a drink of his chocolate and lets it warm him. 

Gerard finishes first, rinsing his mug and saying goodnight with a small smile. Frank goes to take Grant’s mug when he finishes, but Grant shoos him away from the sink. He washes their mugs and the pot Frank used to make the cocoa in. When he’s drying his hands on the towel when he finishes, he feels Frank’s arms wrap around him from behind. 

“Sometimes, huh?” he murmurs.

“I’m always expecting that horrible _next_ time, when you decide you don’t want me,” Grant says evenly.

“Not gonna happen,” Frank murmurs against his neck. 

“Frank,” Grant breathes. 

“I’m an asshole, Grant, but not that much of one.” He kisses the back of Grant’s neck, around to his ear. Grant puts his hands Frank’s and turns his head toward Frank’s lips. 

Grant thinks about the blueprints up in his workshop. He thinks, but does not say, _Someday, you aren’t going to need to turn to me for comfort any more._ He kisses Frank, instead. He doesn’t turn to Frank for comfort. He turns to him because he is sweet, and gorgeous, and sexy, and caring. Even when he’s here for respite, he gives that to Grant.

Grant is, he has to admit, somewhat hopelessly in love with him. But Frank is bright and wonderful and he has his own life, his own home. Grant doesn’t get to keep him, and he’s had to make his peace with that fact.

Now, Frank’s cold fingertips slip up under the hem of Grant’s shirt, and Grant smiles. “How would you feel about moving out of the kitchen and somewhere more comfortable? Perhaps somewhere with a bed?”

“I could be into that,” Frank says solemnly. Grant leads Frank up to his own suite this time. Frank pauses in the doorway. “Can I ask you a question? Why were you so sure we were upsetting Gerard?”

“He acted distant for a good ten minutes when he caught us kissing. And then tonight… Well, it could have very well turned into a romantic walk for the two of us, and he saw me give you the scarf. I felt that same distance from him. He only relaxed when we paid attention to him, rather than each other,” Grant explains. 

Frank regards Grant for a long moment. “Before I arrived…”

“I had an interest,” Grant admits.

“Did _he_?” Frank asks softly. 

“I didn’t think so. But perhaps I was wrong.” 

Frank pads over to him and cups his cheek. “Gerard seems pretty great,” he says. “You know I never asked you to not to- to stay-” Frank scratches his neck. “It’s okay.”

“And I have never asked you to not leave, despite wanting to ask every fucking time. Because I know there are things you want. Things you _need_ that I can’t give you,” Grant replies, reaching out to cup Frank’s cheeks. 

Frank leans in and presses their foreheads together. “Grant…” He doesn’t deny it, though. 

“So we shall make the most of your time here,” Grant says and wraps his arms around Frank. Frank kisses him, and Grant can’t do anything but give himself up to it and kiss back. 

“If you want to sleep with someone else,” Frank pulls back to say, “Gerard, or—well. Somebody. You should do it, Grant. Maybe not _right_ now, but-” he laughs. “Fuck, this is awkward.”

Grant smiles. “I would much rather have a few awkward moments while we talk than to do something that would hurt you.”

“That’s why you’re kind of the best,” Frank tells him, and he pulls Grant in again. Frank nips at Grant’s jaw, lips trailing down his neck. He licks at the freckles there and sucks briefly at his collarbone. “He’s hot,” he murmurs.

“Yes,” Grant agrees. “Very.” 

“Pretty, talented, just your type.”

“Frank,” Grant breathes, amused, “is this a pep talk?” 

“I’m just saying,” says Frank, tugging Grant towards the bed. 

“I’ve seen you looking at him,” Grant says. “I thought maybe…”

“You thought maybe what?” Frank asks, sliding his hands up under Grant’s shirt to push it off. “I was gonna make a move? I’m not good with rejection.” 

“I remember,” Grant murmurs. Frank laughs and kisses his way up Grant’s neck. Grant slides his hands under Frank’s layers of shirt and cardigan. 

“I was an idiot to ever turn you down,” he murmurs, kissing up Frank’s stomach, mouthing at a nipple.

“Fuckin’ right,” Frank agrees. He’s already a little bit breathless. Fuck, Grant loves how responsive he is. Really, Grant loves everything about him. 

Grant tugs Frank’s clothes the rest of the way over his head. “What can I do for you tonight?” he breathes.

“Hmm,” Frank murmurs, nosing up underneath Grant’s chin. “I think… I think I want your mouth.”

“I can give you that,” Grant says. He’d give Frank anything in his power to give. He lowers his mouth to Frank’s, strokes their tongues together, hands slipping around the warm skin of Frank’s waist.

“These need to go,” Frank announces, tugging at Grant’s trousers.

Grant smiles and helps Frank with his belt and fly. “Hate to tell you, but yours need to go too.”

“Fuck yeah, get ’em off,” Frank grins. 

Grant laughs and goes for Frank’s button and zip. He never tires of how _fun_ sex with Frank can be. Sometimes it’s fun and sweet at the same time, until Grant feels like his heart will burst. Sometimes it’s intense. Both of them are the emotional type. And that’s not even taking into account their powers, which spark and flow together every place they touch.

He smooths his fingers over Frank’s hip bones. “Gorgeous.”

“Why’re you talking about yourself again?” Frank teases, pushing into Grant’s hands.

“Hush,” Grant scolds him, nipping at Frank’s inner thigh. This little hiss that Frank can’t quite bite back goes straight to Grant’s cock.

Frank runs a hand over Grant’s head. “Dunno how I keep my hands off you, ever.”

“You don’t,” Grant reminds him, tugging down the elastic of Frank’s briefs.

“Oh yeah,”  Frank says, grinning.

Grant gives Frank’s cock a stroke and grins up at him when he moans. “How do you want it?” Grant murmurs, licking his lips and watching Frank watch his tongue.

“Hmmm,” Frank drawls, tracing Grant’s cheekbone with a fingertip. “Like this, I think. Want you right here with me.”

“As you wish,” Grant replies and leans in to brush his lips over Frank’s stomach and down. He uses only his lips at first, kissing his way over Frank’s hipbone to the base of his cock.

“Ngh,” Frank moans. “Grant, come on.”

Grant chuckles and slides his tongue lightly up Frank’s cock to the head. He’s already leaking. Fuck, Grant loves his taste. One of Frank’s hands slides back to cradle Grant’s skull; the other fists in the bedsheets. Grant takes the head of Frank’s cock in his mouth and sucks lightly, savors his taste, and enjoys hearing the noises Frank makes. 

He knows exactly how to get Frank off, and he uses every bit of that knowledge to draw this out, keep him on the edge. Eventually, though, Frank’s moaning and writhing against the bed. Grant pauses, lifts his head, and smiles up at Frank. “I love seeing you like this.”

“You’re a fucking tease,” Frank groans.

“You love it,” Grant returns, an echo of their earlier conversation. 

“Yeah,” Frank murmurs. Grant kisses the top of his thigh and then takes his cock in his mouth again. He keeps going this time, bringing Frank off with hollowed cheeks and a hand massaging his balls.

Frank comes cursing and gasping Grant’s name, his power surging up and out into Grant’s skin. It takes Grant’s breath away every time. He swallows and pulls off to lay his cheek against Frank’s hip and look up at him. 

“If you get any better at that, I might die,” Frank tells him.

“We can’t have that,” Grant murmurs, tracing a fingertip along the curve of Frank’s thigh. Frank’s hand smooths over his scalp and cups his cheek. Grant pushes himself up and slides up Frank’s body. He needs to kiss Frank. 

Frank licks eagerly into his mouth as soon as their lips touch. He curls his arms around Grant’s shoulders and Grant hums and rolls his hips gently against Frank’s.

“Your turn,” Frank says. “What do you want from me?” 

_Everything,_ Grant thinks. “I want to fuck you,” Grant whispers in his ear. 

“Fuck yeah,” Frank whispers back.

“Like this?” Grant asks, nipping at the skin of Frank’s neck. 

Frank grins and grinds up against him. “Like this,” he agrees. “Want to see your face.”

“Yes,” Grant says and kisses him again. 

Frank’s lazy now that he’s come, letting Grant touch him and kiss him wherever he wants. It’s Grant who needs to take a few deep breaths when their cocks brush together.

“You feel so good,” Frank murmurs. 

“So do you,” Grant whispers against his neck. “You always do.”

He doesn’t try to give Frank a hickey just under his chin. But he finds the color blooming anyway. Frank hisses. “Marking me up?”

“Only a little bit,” Grant replies. He mouths his way down Frank’s neck to his chest. 

“Showing off?” Frank murmurs.

“Me? Never,” Grant says, and then he sucks one of Frank’s nipples into his mouth, worrying it a little with his teeth. Frank moans and Grant gropes out for the bottle of lube on the night table. 

He has to do a little deep breathing to get himself into the condom and lubed up. “Do you need my fingers, darling?” he asks.

“No,” Frank replies. “Want them, though.” 

Grant breathes through his nose. He’s too impatient for that. “Next time,” he promises. “Next time, I’ll spend hours opening you up. Today I can’t fucking wait.”

“Deal,” Frank replies and lifts his knees, spreading his legs. Grant strokes his thigh for a moment, letting him settle into a comfortable position before lining himself up and pushing in.

It feels just as amazing as it always does. When they’re this close together, no matter how tightly Grant tries to clamp down on his power, he can’t quite help but letting a little bit slip through, and Grant feels the spark of it everywhere their skin is touching. 

He leans down and nuzzles his cheek against Frank’s while he breathes, growing accustomed to the feel of Frank. 

“Okay?” he murmurs when he’s ready to move.

“Now,” says Frank, breathlessly. “Move, Grant, c’mon. Want to feel you.”

Grant starts thrusting his hips slowly. He knows it will drive Frank absolutely mad. It’s driving him mad, too. All he wants to do is bury himself as deep as he can. He has to force himself to keep a steady pace. He lean down and captures Frank’s lips again, to distract himself. 

Frank’s tongue slips into Grant’s mouth and they kiss and kiss as Grant thrusts his hips. He slides his hands down Frank’s arms to link their fingers, pinning Frank’s hands on either side of his head.

“Grant,” Frank gasps, pulling his mouth away from Grant’s to draw in unsteady breaths. Grant can feel Frank’s cock against his stomach; he’s more than half-hard again. Grant gives Frank a long, hard thrust and then speeds up. Frank bites his lip and moans. 

“You’re so good, darling,” he murmurs. “Feels so good.”

“You,” Frank gasps. “Grant, I fucking-” Frank hooks his ankles around Grant’s legs and meets every thrust. 

Grant can’t breathe right anymore, can’t think. Can only feel. And Grant has never known anything that feels as good as Frank’s body beneath his, Frank’s power sparking against his own, Frank’s lips against his throat as he comes.

He thrusts through it, mouthing the words he can’t actually speak into Frank’s hair. Frank moans against his throat and snaps his hips up as hard as he can. “Come for me, darling,” Grant says, cupping Frank’s cheeks and dropping kisses on his temple, his forehead, the bridge of his nose. With a shout, Frank does.

Grant swallows hard. Nothing is ever as good as this. With Frank. He thinks maybe Frank just left a few marks of his own. Frank’s arms wrap tightly around him, holding him close, and they catch their breath together.

“Fuck, that was good,” Frank breathes after a few minutes. 

“Isn’t it always?” Grant asks, amused. 

“That was a compliment, not surprise,” Frank points out.

“Ah,” Grant says, laughing a little. “You weren’t so bad yourself, love.”

Frank smiles. “You did all the work. I just laid back and thought of Jersey.” 

“Jersey, huh?” Grant repeats. 

“The motherland,” Frank agrees solemnly. 

Grant laughs and squeezes Frank tight. “I hope your thoughts were pleasant.”

“Don’t worry, the orgasm was pleasant too,” Frank quips, but the kiss he gives Grant is tender.

“Stay?” Grant asks.

“Wild pigs couldn’t drag me away,” Frank replies. 

Grant laughs again. “Did you know there are wild boar out in the hills?”

“Thanks for that,” Frank laughs. “Let’s get cleaned up, baby.”

“If it wasn’t so late I’d suggest a bath,” Grant murmurs, and Frank’s eyes light up. “Maybe tomorrow,” he says decisively. 

“I’m holding you to that,” Frank said. “That giant tub of yours is calling my name.”

“Maybe I can get you calling mine.” Grant nuzzles him.

“Sounds like a plan,” Frank agrees, and he yawns. “C’mon- we need to wash off, or we’ll stick together.”

“Which would be less than pleasant,” Grant agrees and they both roll out of his bed and go into the bathroom. Grant wets a flannel and runs it over Frank. “You’re so beautiful, every time you come here I just-”

“You too,” Frank murmurs, hand slipping to the small of Grant’s back.

Grant stands and lets Frank clean him up too. It feels damn good to take care of each other like this. And it feels so damn good to have Frank’s body nestled into him in his own big bed.

Frank’s breaths even out into sleep, but Grant stays awake for a while, thinking. He has the feeling that watching Frank leave will be even harder this time. No use in putting off the inevitable; he’ll return to his workshop in the morning. If he can get this idea to work… well. It’s entirely possible that he’ll be watching Frank leave for good, someday soon. 

Perhaps that would be best for both of them, he thinks. He can’t quite bring himself to believe it. He falls asleep thinking what he always thinks when Frank’s in his arms. _Loveyouloveyouloveyou._

The next morning after breakfast, he excuses himself and goes up to his workshop alone. 

* * *

art by [akamine_chan](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3159533)

* * *

Frank watches Grant disappear upstairs and then turns back to Gerard. “He’ll probably be there all day. Are you in for the day, too?” 

Gerard looks at him for a moment and then says, “Come explore the music room with me?”

Frank grins. “I would fucking love to.” Gerard smiles back at him, and Frank can’t help but think about what he and Grant had talked about last night. Grant was right. He does find Gerard attractive. What’s more important, he’s easy to talk to. “I’m really glad you ended up here at the same time as me,” he tells Gerard, before he can think about it.

Gerard grins at him. “Yeah, me too. I didn’t really know what to expect, even though Gabriel and Fabio told me all about it.”

“And now that you know? Will you come back?”

“As often as Grant will let me,” Gerard tells him. 

“I bet he’ll let you come as often as you want to,” Frank says with a smile. 

Gerard gives him a look like he’s not sure if Frank is fucking with him. Frank… isn’t. He thinks that Gerard would be good for Grant to have around more often.

“Let’s get some more coffee and go up,” Frank says. “Has anyone played the organ for you yet?”

“I was hoping you would,” Gerard smiles.

“I can do that,” Frank agrees. “It’s even better with two, though.”

“I could maybe manage a duet,” Gerard says with a grin. “You’ll have to let me practice a bit, though.” 

“What, you’re _not_ immediately good at everything you touch?” Frank teases. 

“Shh,” Gerard says. “Don’t tell.”

“Your secret’s safe,” Frank promises, pushing open the door to the music room. Frank loves it in here. He feels comfortable in the entire house, but this room, almost more than his bedroom or Grant’s, feels like home. 

He likes watching Gerard’s eyes get wide as he looks around. Grant doesn’t do anything by halves. “Holy shit,” Gerard manages. “This place is-”

“I know,” Frank says gleefully. “It’s so amazing. Come on.” He grabs Gerard by the hand and tugs him to the pipe organ.

“Grant built this, right?” Gerard asks, running a hand over one of the metal tubes. “Shit, this thing is huge. What does it sound like?”

“Let’s find out,” Frank says and sits at the bench in front of the keys. Gerard sits beside him. Frank puts one hand on the top row of keys and another a step down on a lower row and plays a chord. The sound fills the room. They look at each other and Frank knows his expression is the same as Gerard’s—mischievous little boys. 

“D minor,” Gerard whispers, and their fingers search out the notes and crash onto the keys.

There’s no rhyme or reason to what they’re playing, at first: they follow the sound, and let that lead them from one chord to the next. Sometimes they hit discordant notes, but it’s just _cool_. Like they’re playing a movie soundtrack and something crazy just happened. 

Frank pulls a few stops and starts to pick out a melody on an upper keyboard as Gerard continues chords. It’s wandering and low, like a foggy night out on the moors. Frank thinks it sounds fucking amazing. And not only that, it’s really _fun_. They take turns pulling out different stops, manipulating the pedals. It’s one of Grant’s creations, of course, so it’s nothing close to ordinary.

He catches Gerard grinning at him, and grins back. They keep it up for several more minutes before they finally come to a dramatic, weirdly beautiful end. “Shit, that was fun,” Gerard says. 

“Let me jump on one of these pianos and we can duet,” Frank suggests.

“Awesome,” Gerard grins. “I feel like an evil genius when I play this thing.” 

“Or the Phantom of the Opera?” Frank asks. 

“Fuck that. I’m the Phantom of the Paradise,” Gerard retorts. 

“I love you,” Frank replies. Gerard throws back his head and laughs. Frank grins and does a run on the piano. 

This is too fucking much fun. Gerard likes it when he plays jazz. He actually starts singing along when Frank tries something more current. Frank’s never heard punk music played on a pipe organ before, but it’s fucking _rad_. 

“We should put out an album of classical punk covers,” Frank says when they finish “Nervous Breakdown.” 

“That would be rad,” Gerard beams. “Come back over here, I wanna try some more two-hand stuff.” Frank snorts but obeys.

They end up composing an on-the-fly piece inspired equally by Beethoven and Morrisey. Frank hasn’t had this much fun making music in a long fucking time. In the back of his mind, he’s expecting Grant to hear the organ and come investigate, but he doesn’t emerge from his workshop.

After a while, though, Archibald appears and bumps up against Frank’s leg. It’s not insistent; it’s more of a “hello” than anything else. He leans down and picks Archie up. Archie goes up on his hind legs and inspects the keys in front of them. 

“Can you talk to it?” he murmurs. Archie trills; a moment later, there’s an answering low note from deep within the depths of the pipe organ. 

Gerard goes a little bit wide-eyed and gapes at Archie, then at the organ. “Jesus, this house,” he breathes. 

“Full of surprises,” Frank murmurs. 

“Yeah,” says Gerard, throwing him a glance. His fingers tap out a chord. Archibald trills again, and the chord is reflected back, but fuller, deeper. “Fucking amazing,” Gerard says. “How do you ever leave this place?” 

“He’s never actually asked me to stay,” Frank admits. He used to think that he wouldn’t be able to do it- he had his life in Jersey, his bands. But lately… Lately he’s started wondering what it would be like. 

“Then he’s a fucking moron,” Gerard says quietly, playing a long E-minor. 

“He’s not!” Frank says hotly. “He wants me to be able to… To be out there. Doing what I want to do.” 

“So he just took it for granted? You know and I know that there’s more to it than that.”

Frank takes a deep breath, fingers finding random keys and picking out a melody.

“Sorry,” Gerard murmurs. “It’s just. You love him. He loves you. Seems simple to me.”

“Hah,” Frank says, trilling between two keys.

Gerard is silent for a moment. Then he starts playing again, a melancholy melody. Frank listens for a little while; then, he joins in. He picks out an interesting counter-melody and they play together for a long time. Archie scurries in circles behind them, adding his own chirping and whirring additions. Eventually they both trail off, sitting and staring at their hands on the ranks of keys.

“Sometimes I wish he would ask,” Frank admits. 

“Maybe he needs you to tell him that,” Gerard suggests. 

Frank sighs and rests his forehead on the edge of the organ. Gerard’s fingers settle gently on his head after a moment, stroking. Frank wants… He doesn’t know.

“Just a suggestion,” Gerard says quietly. Archie hops up on the bench between them. “The gear bucket is worried about you,” Gerard says lightly after another moment.

Frank laughs a little, raising his head and peering at Archibald, whose head is tilted in worry. “I like you too, buddy,” Frank says and pats Archibald’s head. 

“Hey -” Gerard murmurs after a moment, touching Frank’s cheek with two tentative fingers. “I’m sorry if I upset you.”

“It wasn’t you,” Frank says, and means it. “It’s a whole… Thing.”

“Maybe I just wish we could both stay,” Gerard replies, rubbing at a smudge on Archie’s flank with his thumb.

And… Huh. Frank is a little surprised at how much he likes that idea. He likes Gerard a lot more than most of the other guests he’s met. He just likes him, period. He could live with that, he thinks. It could be pretty fun. 

He gets up and walks over to the corner where the guitars are. His setup—the modded electric guitar and clockwork-powered amplifier that Grant had surprised him with a few visits ago—is still there. Gerard spins around on the organ bench and leans back to watch. Frank feels his cheeks heat up for some reason, but picks up his guitars and goes on tuning.

He launches into “Heart Shaped Box” to warm up his fingers and transitions to one of his own songs. It’s been weeks—months, if he’s honest—since he’s been able to play any of his own electric guitars without worrying about blowing a fuse. Being able to now, because of Grant, feels incredible.

He catches Gerard watching him, totally rapt. Frank smiles down at the amp and turns a knob to change the sound. It’s not quite a distortion pedal, but it’s close. 

He starts feeling warm in his chest whenever he thinks about Grant up in his workshop making this monstrosity… for him.

Archibald clambers up on top of his amp and chirps. Frank smiles and reaches out to pat him on the head before starting his next song. He plays for a while, treating Gerard to another one of his original songs, though he can’t quite make himself look at Gerard while he does it. He gets a little bit lost in it. And then he hears a piano joining the guitar, notes hesitant, but a perfect compliment to his melody.

Frank lifts his head and looks up at Gerard. He’s concentrating on playing, hair falling in his face. Fuck, he’s beautiful, really. Frank can see why Grant wants him. Hell, Frank wouldn’t kick him out of bed if he happened to find his way there. 

He realizes after a moment that he’s shamelessly staring. Luckily, he’s still playing, and Gerard hasn’t turned away from the keys. Just to see what Gerard will do, he changes key. Gerard falters only a little and changes key with him. He picks out the new set of chords, shaggy head nodding above the keys. Frank gets up and paces over, sits on the bench and leans against his shoulder.

They play together like that until the clock chimes. They both startle a little. Frank hadn’t even noticed the time passing. 

“Guess that’s tea time?” Gerard asks, fingers still resting in gentle arcs on the keys.

“Yeah,” Frank agrees. “Thanks,” he says, after a minute.

“Thank _you_ ,” Gerard replies. “I feel so inspired right now. To draw, to write, to write _music_.”

“Good,” Frank murmurs.

He gets up and goes back over to set his guitar and amp to rights. They walk downstairs together. Gerard chatters about one of the ideas running through his head. Frank doesn’t need to do much except smile and make the occasional noise of encouragement. He really does like listening to Gerard, though.

Grant isn’t in the dining room when they arrive. Frank is a little disappointed, but they get their tea or coffee and biscuits and start up a lively conversation with Vince. By the time Vince fills the table with the rest of their food, they’re all casting expectant looks at the kitchen door.

Ten minutes pass, and it becomes apparent that Grant isn’t going to be making an appearance. Frank sighs a little, but pushes past it. Grant does this sometimes. It’s fine. “Did you want to do something after tea?” Frank asks Gerard. “Or did you want to go work on something else?”

Gerard hums a little. “I thought I might go up into the studio above the carriage house again. There’s all these things running around in my head,” he says. Then he peers at Frank over his water glass and adds, “There’s plenty of room, if you wanted to…”

“I… sure,” Frank said. “Actually, that’d be fun. Maybe I’ll paint vampire robots.”

Gerard laughs. “You jumped on that idea pretty fast. Vampire robots, huh?”

“Steam-powered vampire robots,” Frank agrees. Vince asks him a question about the practicalities of vampiric automata, and they discuss the idea for the rest of the meal.

He follows Gerard up to the studio. Vince doesn’t join them because he’s packing for his time away. It’s getting kind of late in the day, anyway. Gerard lights a bunch of gaslights up in the studio. He seems to have adapted well to the eccentricities of the house; in fact, he moves around it like Grant does, like some sort of old-time movie star in Frank’s favorite black-and-whites.

“Any idea what he’s working on?” Gerard asks him. It’s out of the blue, but Frank knows he’s talking about Grant. 

“Not a clue,” Frank replies. “Sometimes he just does this and comes out again with another Archie or a new and improved furnace.”

“Well…that’s a good cause.” Gerard smiles. “Let’s get you set up with an easel and stuff?”

“Awesome,” Frank agrees. 

Gerard helps him pull out an easel and prepare his canvas and then Frank starts playing with the paint. He mixes several colors and then slides the brush over the canvas. He’s aware that he paints as hectically as he plays, but he loves the mix and squish of the paints.

And, just like when he plays, Frank tries to let go of the things that are nagging at the back of his mind. He finds that it’s harder than it usually is, especially since one of those things is sitting at an easel by the window, brow furrowed in concentration. It’s still pretty fun though. Vampire robots are bad-fucking-ass. He thinks maybe he’ll give this to Gerard.

*

Grant spends most of the next three days holed up in his workshop, appearing only on occasion for meals. Frank assumes he just collapses in his own bed every night. Which is fine. But Frank can’t fucking sleep. And he tries to spend time with Gerard during the day, so even when he does sneak off to try to nap, he’s just too keyed up.

He hasn’t felt this wound up for a long fucking time—not here at the manor. He tries to work out, but that only helps for a couple of hours at a time. Feeling like this while he’s here makes him feel like he’s failing somehow. And he’s too fucking stubborn to walk into Grant’s workshop and beg for… help, attention, a fucking knock on the head, pick one.

“Are you okay?” Gerard asks him at lunch. They’d been working separately this morning, Gerard in his study and Frank in the music room, and it’s the first time they’ve seen each other all day.

“Having a bad day, I guess,” Frank says. 

“Anything I can do to help?” Gerard asks. 

Frank shrugs uncomfortably. The problem is that there’s nowhere for his power to _go_ , here. At home it overloads circuits and blows fuses, but there’s nothing like that here. So it just stays in Frank’s chest, crackling and twisting and making him feel like a stormcloud.

“Let me know,” Gerard says gently. 

“I will. Thanks, Gee,” Frank replies and takes a bite of his sandwich. 

Trouble is, he does know one thing that calms his power, but he doesn’t think he can ask Gerard for… that. Not that he hasn’t thought about it, despite himself. He can’t really help it. Especially with the knowledge that Grant is attracted to Gerard too. He keeps thinking about what they’d look like together. Grant who he knows to be lean and loose, lazily affectionate. Gerard would be mussed and intense. 

Fuck, there’s a picture.

Frank shifts in his chair uncomfortably. He’s turned on at the lunch table, and Gerard is looking at him with a worried furrow between his eyebrows. Frank wants to fucking _lick it_ and he feels really bad about it. He needs to get out of here.

He takes the last two bites of his sandwich and swallows them down fast. “I’m gonna. I need. I’m gonna take a nap,” he says and gets up from the table.

“Okay?” Gerard says. “See you later?”

“Yeah,” Frank says, and then he bolts out the door and up towards his room. He needs- fuck. He needs to jerk off, like, now. 

He crashes through the door, swears and catches it before it slams into anything, and looks wildly around before his eyes settle on the bathroom door. Fuck, yes. Perfect. He’s stripping off his clothes as he walks, and he doesn’t even bother to wait until the tub fills before stepping down into it. The water is almost too hot, but it feels _good_. He feels even better when he finally wraps a hand around his cock. 

“Fuck,” he gasps, hips jerking. He spares a minute to be grateful that his power isn’t _actually_ electrical in nature, for all that he can feel it crackling through his bones—otherwise jerking off in the bathtub probably wouldn’t be the greatest plan. As it is, it feels like the best idea he’s ever had.

He tries to slow down, but he can’t seem to manage it. He just keeps stroking. “Get out,” he mutters, “out, out, out.” He thumbs the head of his cock roughly, water sloshing as his arm jerks. He moans, and he wishes that he wasn’t alone. That Grant was here, covering Frank’s body with his. Or- fuck, Gerard, with his wild hair and his clever hands. Frank is pretty sure Gerard could give him a fucking amazing hand job. Frank moans and strokes a little faster. 

His hair flows and clings to his neck, and he pants into the steamy air, eyes screwed shut tight, a whine gathering in his throat. Shitfuckdammit, he wants hands all over him.

His power pulses and swells, and he gasps. He moans and thrusts up into his hand. The water swirls around him and his power pulses again. “Please,” he gasps to exactly no-one. It’s not- fuck, he can feel it cresting, but it doesn’t feel like _enough_.

He keeps going, though, keeps stroking. He reaches up and pinches a nipple between his thumb and forefinger. He pinches hard, twists to make himself gasp, strokes harder at the same time. “Fuck, fuck, fuck-” he moans. He finally comes, arching up out of the water. Fuck. 

Frank slumps against the side of the tub to try to catch his breath. It’s never, ever gotten this bad before— not here. It’s not gone, either. It’s still there. Not as strong, but there. He takes several deep breaths and tries some of Grant’s meditation exercises. After a few minutes, it feels a little less like someone is sitting on his chest.

“Fuck,” he says, pressing a hand to the skin above his heart. He can’t keep on like this. Not for long. Maybe Grant will come to him tonight. Something. He drains the tub and hops into the steam shower to clean up, leaning tiredly against the wall. He falls into bed exhausted, and manages to fall asleep for a few hours.

He wakes up groggy and disoriented, but there’s still light coming in his windows, so at least he knows it’s still daytime. At least he didn’t miss supper. He opens his door and peers out into the hallway: empty, thank fuck. His skin is still buzzing.

He closes the door again and puts on some clothes. Shit. He’s going to need to work out again. Also maybe jerk off again. Maybe if Grant shows his face at supper, Frank can persuade him to take a break. Hell, he’s not above begging at this point. He’s not sure why his power is acting up like this: being here at the manor is supposed to _stop_ it.

He takes a deep breath and goes downstairs. He needs food, whatever else is going on with his fucking body. 

“Sleep well?” Vince asks him when he walks into the kitchen, clapping a friendly hand on Frank’s shoulder

Frank pastes on a smile. “Like a baby.”

“Good,” Vince says. “Good evening, Gerard,” he adds as Gerard comes in the room. “This is one of your last meals with me, lads.”

“It’s been great,” Gerard says earnestly.

Frank echoes the sentiment, and Vince smiles at them both. “I leave tomorrow after breakfast, so you’ll be on your own until Cameron gets here,” Vince says. 

“We won’t starve,” Frank promises. 

“You had better not,” Vince tells them, sternly. “And make sure you make Grant eat, too, will you?”

“Course,” Frank replies and looks at the entrance to the dining area. “Has he eaten at all yet today? What the hell is he working on up there?”

“He ate when I went up there a couple hours ago and watched him do it,” Vince confirms. “He’s doing some sort of welding, I have no idea.”

Gerard is frowning at the doorway. “I get being inspired, but I wish he’d come down.”

Vince makes a wry face. “If wishes were horses…”

Frank breathes out through his nose. This is not working out the way he hoped. He holds it together through dinner, at least. He’s really going to miss Vince, who tells them stories about his previous travels and has them in stitches for much of the meal. When Vince starts making noises about needing to finish packing, they shoo him up to his room, promising to clean up. “See you at breakfast,” they tell him. 

Frank deflates once he’s gone, carrying dishes to the sink and washing them in silence. After a minute, he feels Gerard step up behind him and lay his hands on Frank’s shoulders. Frank can’t quite bite back the gasp. Fuck. That feels…

“Frankie?” Gerard asks softly. 

“I… I’ve been having a- well, an attack, I guess,” Frank says. 

“Right now? For how long?” He starts rubbing Frank’s shoulders. That’s fucking dangerous.

“Couple days,” Frank admits. He barely stops himself from arching up into Gerard’s touch like a cat.

“Why didn’t you say something?” Gerard asks. 

“Because it’s been so long since its been this bad here, I didn’t… it was stupid. And Grant usually helps, but he’s been-” Frank waves a hand. 

“You know if you told him, he’d drop everything to help you, right?” Gerard asks. 

“I have to learn how to fucking… deal,” Frank grits. “Fuck,” he breathes as Gerard keeps massaging, dropping his chin to his chest.

“I- is this okay?” Gerard asks, suddenly, his touch becoming lighter but, thank fuck, not going away. 

Frank takes a deep breath. “Yeah. It… helps. I don’t know why, but it helps.”

“Okay, drop the dishes.” Gerard is firm and tugs him into the adjacent sitting room by a beltloop. Frank lets himself be led, and he doesn’t resist when Gerard pulls him down onto a couch and wraps his arms around Frank’s middle. Frank leans his head against Gerard’s chest and sighs with relief. It’s still there. He can still feel it, but it’s receded far enough that he can breathe again. 

“My head is so messed up,” he mumbles into Gerard’s shirt.

Gerard hums and rubs his hands in slow circles on Frank’s back. “You’re not messed up, Frankie. You’re awesome.”

Frank smiles. “Thanks, Gee. I just. I hate that this is happening _here_.”

“What usually brings on the problems?”

“Stress. When I’m frustrated, or angry, or really tired,” Frank admits. “I’m kind of emotional, and it’s always been tied to that.”

“You don’t seem particularly frustrated or angry… have you not been sleeping?” Gerard asks gently. 

“I’m trying,” Frank frowns. He closes his eyes against how fucking good it feels to have Gerard pressed up against him, how he feels more steady than he has in days. 

He dozes off then. He doesn’t even notice until he wakes up again. He’s literally cradled in Gerard’s lap. “Fuck,” he murmurs, struggling to get upright again. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

“It’s totally fine, Frankie,” Gerard murmurs. “You clearly needed it. ”

“Guess so. If you don’t mind.” He can’t quite meet Gerard’s eyes.

“I don’t,” Gerard says, firmly. “I’m glad I could help.”

“Thanks,” Frank says quietly. “I really do feel better. It’s kind of amazing.”

“Any time,” Gerard replies. “It’d be better with a book, but I needed the rest too.”

Frank takes a couple of deep breaths. “I think I’m going to try and go to bed for real, now.”

“Okay, Frankie,” Gerard replied. “Sleep well. Let me know if, well, if you need anything.”

“I will,” Frank says. He probably won’t, but he likes that Gerard offered.

* * *

Gerard pauses outside the door to Grant’s workshop. Maybe he shouldn’t… But then he remembers how Frank had looked this afternoon. He squares his shoulders and pushes open the door.

Grant doesn’t even seem to notice him at first. He’s bent over the new little creature wearing a look of consternation. Gerard clears his throat. “Grant, a word?” he says. Firmly.

It still takes Grant a moment, but Gerard understands what it’s like, to be caught up in creation. When he does look over his eyes widen a little. “Did I miss supper again?” Grant asks. “I meant to come down.” 

Gerard nods. “I wouldn’t bother you, but… Frank’s not doing very well.” 

Grant frowns. “What do you mean? Is he coming down with another cold? I always tell him to wear a scarf, and-” 

“His… power is bothering him. He says he’s having trouble sleeping. And I think you being up here is upsetting him.” 

“What?” Grant demands, getting to his feet. “How long has he- Oh, hell, why didn’t he tell me?” 

Gerard shrugs. “From what he said, it seemed like he felt like it shouldn’t be happening here, and he thought it should just go away.” Grant looks– super fucking upset, really. Gerard bites his lip. “I took care of him. The best I could, anyway.”

“Thank you,” Grant says. It’s a little stiff, but clearly heartfelt. Gerard nods. 

“He’s lucky,” Gerard says before he can think better of it. “To have you.”

“When I’m not being a selfish arse,” Grant murmurs. He half-turns back to his workbench, then tosses his magnifying visor onto it in frustration. “Please excuse me,” he says to Gerard.

“He said he was going to try and sleep,” Gerard warns him. Grant takes a deep breath and nods. 

“Thank you, Gerard,” Grant says as Gerard turns to leave. Gerard doesn’t have to look back to know that Grant’s headed to Frank’s room anyway. Frank’s room, where he’ll… Fuck. He takes a deep breath. Suddenly, he’s pretty jealous of both of them, and he _knows_ it’s so stupid. Especially when Frank is having a hard time. 

It would have been creepy as fuck of him to be all, “Hey Frank, you literally slept on me and I liked it, can I come to your room to do it some more?” So he just needs to suck it up, right? Right. He needs to do– something. Draw, maybe, or write. He doesn’t think he’s going to be sleeping much. 

He turns to leave the room, but curiosity has him looking over at Grant’s workbench. He wonders what’s so special about this project that it’s had Grant holed up in here for days. He resists the urge to snoop—it isn’t his place.

He goes up to his room and pulls out his sketch book. He ends up drawing Grant looking even more like a mad scientist, hunched over his bench. He flips a few pages, wonders how Grant would feel about being worked into Gerard’s comic.

The lines are taking shape on his page almost before he can think. Frank in dusty leathers, Grant in a billowing coat. He’s halfway through drawing the third figure in the scene before he realizes that it’s him. He has to laugh a little, but he keeps going. He gives himself a distinctive outfit that fits with Frank and Grant. A badass jacket, tight pants, and a gun just for kicks. 

Might as well live it up, it’s his fucking fantasy world, after all. And if this is what he gets… Well. He’ll take it.

He keeps drawing, adding more and more details and  creating a world for them to inhabit. Soon he’s deep in thought and in ink.

* * *

Grant knocks softly on Frank’s door. A moment later, he hears a bleary, “’lo?”

Grant swallows. “It’s just me,” he murmurs. 

“Come in,” Frank replies faintly. 

Grant lets himself into the room and steps out of the boots he’d worn in the workshop, shutting the door softly behind him. He can barely see Frank under the pile of covers on the bed.

“Hello, love.” Grant crosses to the bed, stripping out of his shirt as he goes, and sits down carefully. Frank immediately rolls so he’s spooned around Grant’s body. Grant runs a hand through his hair. “My darling,” he whispers. He can see how worn-out Frank is, and not just because Grant just woke him up. 

“Grant,” Frank rasps. He closes his eyes again.

“I’m sorry, Frank,” Grant says. He cups his hand around the back of Frank’s neck. “Gerard told me- fuck, I’m so sorry.” 

Frank pushes himself against Grant’s hand. “I should have told you. I just. It isn’t fucking fair that it’s happening here.”

“So you decided to be stubborn,” Grant murmurs. Frank doesn’t reply, except to curl into his blankets a bit more. “Darling. I know you know this, but just in case you’d forgotten… I’d have dropped everything in a moment. You’re allowed to interrupt me. You could have come up to sit in the workshop with me. Anything,” Grant murmurs.

“I know,” Frank blurts. “Fuck, Grant, I know I did this to myself. But I-”

The little catch in Frank’s voice is like a fist to Grant’s chest. He lifts his legs and pulls himself onto the bed properly. He takes Frank into his arms and holds him tight. It’s Frank’s tiny sigh of relief that breaks him. 

“I would do anything for you,” Grant admits. Frank buries his face in Grant’s chest and just breathes. Grant strokes his hands over Frank’s back, into his hair, and back down. “I’m sorry,” he whispers against Frank’s forehead. 

“Said that already,” Frank mumbles. He’s pressed up against Grant’s body and clinging.

“It’s still true,” Grant tells him.

“Nothing to forgive,” Frank says. “Should have come to you.”

Grant leans down and kisses him. Frank gasps into his mouth. Grant can feel it, now—Frank’s power leeching out everywhere they’re touching. It’s more intense than he’s ever felt. Even during Frank’s first visits. He’s… “Frank,” Grant whispers against his lips. “Don’t give up. I’m here. Hell, Gerard is here too.”

He’s fiercely, desperately glad that Gerard had been there for Frank when Grant himself hadn’t been. 

Frank clings harder. “I won’t. I just. Fuck. It wasn’t supposed to _happen_ here.” 

“I’m going to fix it for you, I promise,” Grant murmurs, even though he didn’t want to get Frank’s hopes up. He can’t stop himself. He kisses up Frank’s jaw, cups his cheeks and licks into his mouth.

Frank doesn’t answer; he just kisses back. He’s clearly exhausted.

“Sleep, my love,” Grant whispers against his lips. “I’ll stay with you.”

He thinks maybe Frank’s asleep before he finishes the sentence. Grant hides a kiss in Frank’s hair. Once Frank’s breathing has evened out again, Grant kicks out of his trousers and rearranges them so they’re both beneath the covers. 

“Fuck,” he whispers. He’s not sure he’s going to stop feeling guilty about this anytime soon. He can’t stop himself from picturing Gerard’s disapproving face, either.

He’d clearly been nervous about interrupting Grant in his workshop; that he’d done it anyway is a measure of his care. He’ll have to thank Gerard again. Profusely. In the meantime, being stretched out in bed like this is making him inescapably exhausted, too. Grant shuts his eyes and tightens his arms around Frank, and lets Frank’s steady breathing carry him away into sleep. 

When he wakes in the morning, Frank is still in his arms and the sun is shining into his room. It takes Grant a moment to remember that this isn’t just any old morning. Frank is sleeping so deeply that they didn’t move an inch. Grant should feel happy but he mostly feel nauseous with guilt.

He thinks of the little creature on his workbench, half-finished. His prototypes for the energy-storing mechanism have been successful, but he won’t know for sure until Frank tests it for himself.

He kisses Frank’s forehead. He hopes it works, for Frank’s sake. He does. But at the same time, he almost doesn’t want it to for his own. Because he’s a selfish bastard. 

“You’re thinking,” Frank mumbles. “You always fidget when you’re thinking.” 

“Would you still come to me if you didn’t have to?” Grant blurts.

Frank makes a sleepy noise of confusion and wriggles until they’re face to face. “I… Grant, what?” 

“If you didn’t need to come here because of your power, would you still come to me?” Grant asks again. 

“Of course I would. You’re… fuck, Grant. You’re one of my best friends,” Frank says. “Besides,” he jokes sleepily, “it’s not like I ever _wouldn’t_ benefit from a little practice controlling my emotions. Not to mention your awesome music room.” 

Grant wants to believe that. He really fucking wants to believe that. He squeezes Frank in his arms. “You will always be welcome. Always.”

Frank leans up to kiss him, sleepy lips and morning breath and still perfect in every way. Grant kisses back and thinks, _I love you. Choose me. Stay with me._

Frank pulls back and smiles at him. “I missed you the last few days.” 

“I’m sorry,” Grant apologizes again. “Gerard said he… I’m glad he was able to help.”

“It seems to help to, ah. Touch someone,” Frank yawns.

“Anyone?” Grant asks, and Frank shakes his head. 

“It’s different when it’s you. It helps more. Gerard, too. But Vince… nothing with him.” 

“Interesting,” Grant says. 

“Interesting? What are you really thinking?”

“I’m thinking of how grateful I am that Gerard was there to help you, and at the same time I’m fucking kicking myself because I wasn’t.”

“Grant, stop,” Frank says firmly. “You’re here, that’s all that matters.” 

Grant holds him tighter. He can make up for things. He _will_. He just needs to find his balance again. Frank’s potential future happiness is important, but so is his present. 

“Fancy some breakfast?” Grant murmurs. “Or…”

Frank kisses Grant’s throat. “Or?”

“Or I can fuck you until you can’t take it anymore,” Grant says, biting at the shell of Frank’s ear. Frank gasps.

“Fuck, I want that. I’d beg. But it’s Vince’s last morning,” Frank reminds him. 

“Of course. Later?” Grant asks. “I’m yours, all day.”

“Maybe…” Frank begins, sounding hesitant. “Maybe a group session this afternoon with all three of us? I think I’d like that.”

“Whatever you want, my love,” Grant says and kisses his forehead, then laughs. “Didn’t know you were into that, though.”

Frank makes a face. “Perv.”

Grant grins at him. “You know I am.” That’s not even scratching the surface of dirty things he’s done, or thought about. And the thought of Frank _and_ Gerard… Well. He would be lying if he said it was an image he minded. He chuckles to himself. “We’d better go downstairs now, or I’ll be entirely too tempted by you.”

“All right, I’m moving,” Frank says, with a distinct lack of moving.

“Mmm hmm,” Grant says, grinning into the skin of Frank ’s throat.

“Maybe if we both move at the same time,” Frank suggests. 

“I always like that,” Grant purrs.

“Ugh, c’mon,” Frank insists, and he rolls out of the bed and heads for the bathroom door. “Gonna grab a shower real quick,” he says, raising an eyebrow.

“Is that an invitation or a warning?” Grant asks, stretching his arms over his head. 

“What do you want it to be?” Frank asks, pulling his shirt over his head and tossing it toward the corner.

Grant doesn’t even have to think before he’s sitting up and throwing off the covers, following Frank’s laughter into the bathroom. 

Frank turns the shower on, waits a minute, and gets in. Grant follows. He squirts some of Frank’s shampoo into his hands and once Frank’s hair is wet, he puts his hands in it, working up a lather. Frank’s eyelids flutter closed. “Grant,” he whispers. 

“Told you. All yours today,” Grant replies.

Grant can feel Frank’s power sparking between them everywhere they touch. Frank’s abilities have always been deeply tied to his emotions, so Grant knows that he’s feeling a lot right now. He wishes he could take his time here, but Frank is right. They should go down and see Vince off. And spend time with Gerard. He keeps washing Frank, submitting to soap and flannel when it’s his turn to be ministered to.

Frank gives him a lingering kiss once they’re both clean, the warm water running over their bodies. Grant holds him close for several moments and then reaches for the faucet and turns off the water. 

“Moving,” he murmurs against Frank’s wet temple.

“Vince is leaving,” Frank agrees. “And Gerard…”

“Yes,” Grant says and kisses Frank again, briefly this time. “Let’s go have breakfast.”

They manage to dry off and dress in between feeling each other up a bit. It makes Frank giggle and Grant just grins.

When they finally make it downstairs, Vince grins at them. “Well, look who it is!”

Grant smiles back at Vince. “I couldn’t let you go without seeing you off. What sort of best mate would I be if I did that?” 

“You’re always the best. Go sit, though.”

Grant laughs and heads for the table, where Frank and Gerard are already sitting next to one another. “How did you sleep?” Gerard is asking, and Grant doesn’t miss Gerard’s eyes flicking in his direction.

“Better than I have in days and days,” Frank replies. “Thanks for not putting up with my bullshit.”

“That’s not the way that sentence usually goes,” Gerard teases, and Frank grins at him, mischievous and intimate. Gerard touches his shoulder, and Grant watches them lean together and something in his hindbrain purrs in approval. They _fit_ , small and dark and lovely, their Jersey accents curling around one another. 

Grant sits across from them so he can watch them both. Vince sits next to him, and Grant rests an arm on top of his chair. “I’ll miss you, mate.”

“I’d tell you to keep yourself out of trouble until Cameron gets here in two weeks, but I know you,” Vince replies. “Thankfully you’ll have these two here to keep an eye on you.”

“I think they’ll do a damn good job,” Grant says sincerely. 

“Me too,” Frank replies.

Vince laughs broadly, likely because he knows exactly what kind of an eye Grant wants Frank keeping on him. Grant smiles. “And thank you again for your intervention last night, Gerard.”

Gerard turns red and sips his coffee. “Of course.” Frank knocks their shoulders together companionably. 

Vince has made a veritable breakfast feast for them and they dive in. Grant enjoys just listening to them, catching up on the bits and pieces he missed while holed up in his workshop. 

Frank and Gerard offer to clean up while he walks Vince to his car. They each give Vince hugs and wishes for safe travels. Gerard promises to keep the studio in the carriage house ready for his return; Frank demands postcards, making Vince laugh again.

The two of them wave one final goodbye and then go back inside. It always feels odd when someone leaves and even more so when it’s Vince. Grant’s glad he has Frank this time. As well as Gerard. Grant stands by the fender and sticks his hands in his pockets. “Enjoy your time, Vince.”

“And you yours,” Vince tells him warmly. He gives Grant a thoughtful look, and then he says, “Don’t let the Americans wear you out _too_ badly.”

Grant laughs. “I’m sure I’ll come out the other side doing fine.”

“Are you now?” Vince chuckles. “Say hello to Cameron for me.” He gets in the car and Grant watches as he circles back down the long drive before going back inside.

art by [akamine_chan](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3159533)

* * *

He finds Frank and Gerard in the kitchen. Gerard is telling Frank a story about his brother, and it has Frank nearly doubled over with laughter. Grant just stands back in the doorway and watches them for a few moments. “Well, gents, we’re alone in the wilderness,” he says.

Gerard throws him a grin. “If this were a movie, this would be the part where you reveal your wicked intentions.” 

Grant laughs, “I thought it was already well-established that I have all kinds of wicked intentions.” 

“No doubt about it,” Frank says.

“All we need is a storm,” Gerard muses. “A dark night; thunder and lightning; a mad inventor in his tower workshop…”

“I can’t quite imagine him terrorizing us, tough,” Frank says. “I think his wicked intentions would lean more toward, uh, other things.” Gerard turns scarlet. Grant just shrugs and smiles.

Once the dishes are all done, they move to the library and its inviting couch. Frank cuddles close to Grant and tugs Gerard down against his other side. 

“We’re cuddling?” Gerard asks, voice definitely getting higher.

Frank just sighs happily and wriggles. Grant grins and tucks a lock of Frank’s hair behind his ear. “Are you feeling better, darling?”

“Much better,” Frank says. 

Grant reaches out and tugs lightly on Gerard’s hair. “Gerard? Everything all right over there?”

“Fine!” Gerard says, a little too loudly. “Just. Do you want me to leave you two alone? Because I can-”

“No,” Frank and Gerard say in unison. 

“Please stay,” Frank adds. “Unless you want to go do something else.”

“Not if you want me here,” Gerard replies softly.

“Good,” Frank says. “We can call this a group session. Gee, tell us about how your comic is going?”

“Good. It’s really good. So much better now that it’s a comic,” Gerard replies happily. “The mad scientist made an appearance,” he adds.

“Did he?” Grant asks, immensely pleased. 

“He did. Totally without my permission. Just showed up like he belonged there,” Gerard said. 

“Maybe he was just looking for his friends.” Grant kisses Frank’s temple. Gerard huffs, but there’s color high on his cheekbones. It’s fucking adorable. If Grant was close enough, he’d kiss Gerard too. He’s on the verge of moving to do it, really, only inertia holding him back.

Gerard babbles charmingly on about deserts and bands of outlaws for several minutes. Grant is happy to listen. And clearly Frank is too. Grant watches as Frank puts his fingers through Gerard’s hair and starts stroking. Grant can hear Gerard’s exhale. He keeps talking, but closes his eyes. Grant can be rather… focused on Frank’s need to touch, when Frank is here. But Gerard, he thinks, enjoys it just as much. 

Apparently Frank notices too, because he squirms around so more of Gerard is pressed against him. Incidentally, it’s now easier for Grant to touch him too. But it’s not quite enough. Grant hums quietly and tugs Frank up into his lap, then drapes an arm around Gerard instead.

Gerard’s words falter for a moment. But then he starts speaking again, slower and a little more breathless than before. He practically melts against Grant’s side after a few moments. Grant kisses the top of his head. 

Frank asks a question about the desert world Gerard is describing. Grant can feel the puff of Frank’s breath against his neck. Gerard pauses for a moment before answering, like he can’t quite form the right words.

“Sounds amazing, Gee,” Frank murmurs, when Gerard winds down. 

“Thanks,” Gerard replies. “What… what about you, Frankie? What have you been working on?”

“Some fucked up lyrics and that painting I started the other day,” Frank replies. 

“I love it when you paint,” Grant tells him, massaging Gerard’s shoulder a little bit. Gerard drums his fingertips against Frank’s knee, and Frank squirms. 

Frank leans up to kiss the underside of Grant’s jaw. “Currently working on vampire robots.”

“So am I,” Grant says lightly.

Frank pulls back to peer at him with wide eyes. “Seriously?” 

“After a manner of speaking,” Grant replies. “I need to do more tests, but I’m getting close. I’ll show you both when I’m done,” Grant tells him, shifting his hand from Gerard’s shoulder to his hair. Gerard’s eyes flutter closed again. 

Frank sighs, content, and leans back against Grant. “Is this…?” Gerard begins, after a moment’s pause. “Frank. Is this helping?”

“Yeah,” Frank replies, eyes still closed. “You both help.”

“You help me too,” Gerard murmurs after a moment.

Grant finds himself wanting to say a great many things, and do a great many more. But Frank’s weight in his lap is heavy, and Gerard is warm against his side. This is how things should be always, he thinks. Well. It’s how he _wants_ things to be. That’s probably different than _should_. 

Frank falls asleep after a while. Grant laughs a little and tucks a bit of Frank’s hair behind his ear. 

“I’m glad you…” Gerard whispers. “Glad you went to him. Glad you came down today.”

“For him or you?” Grant asks. He needs to know.

“Both,” Gerard admits, softly. 

Grant kisses just behind Gerard’s ear. “I’m glad.” 

“Grant,” Gerard breathes.

“I’m very glad you’re here, Gerard Way,” Grant tells him. He’s close enough than he can hear it when Gerard swallows hard. 

“Me too. Still,” he adds. “Maybe more now. Even though…”

“Hm?” Grant asks, curiously. 

“I really fucking like you. And I was jealous of him for a bit, but I… can’t be,” Gerard murmurs. 

“Don’t be,” Grant replies softly.

“He loves you,” Gerard says. “He’d stay here if you asked him to, you know?”

It’s Grant’s turn to swallow. “I… hope that’s true. But what I’m working on, it could make it so he doesn’t have to be here at all.” He slides a hand over Frank’s chest and kisses the nearest patch of skin. 

“Or go on tour and come back to you,” Gerard points out.

Grant has to close his eyes against how much he _wants_. Gerard touches his hand, gently, and Grant laces their fingers together and squeezes. 

Frank takes a deep breath and makes a sleepy noise and Grant knows he’s now awake. “How long was I out?” he says, voice scratchy. 

“Not long,” Grant replies. 

“Gee’s still here,” Frank adds, sounding pleased.

“’Course,” Gerard says. “Though, uh, my leg is kind of falling asleep, so maybe we should move.”

Frank giggles croakily and they all shift around until everyone is comfortable again. Grant finds himself in the middle of the couch this time. Which is honestly exactly where he wants to be.

Gerard frowns and says, “This would be the perfect time to watch a movie or something, if we weren’t in the Victorian era.” 

Grant chuckles. “Well, we could always move downstairs to where I’ve got a projector and film reels.”

“I should have figured,” Gerard smiles. Grant is getting really fond of that smile.

“C’mon,” Frank grins, getting to his feet and turning to offer each of them one of his hands. “Gee, you’re gonna love this, he’s got all kinds of awesome old shit.”

“I like awesome old shit,” Gerard says. 

Grant smiles and lets Frank pull him up. “I haven’t perfected it yet. The projector is still too noisy and the display is a bit dim.” 

“Shut up, it’s awesome,” Frank says. “It’s in the dungeon!” 

“It’s not a dungeon,” Grant sighs. He will never win this argument.

“Is it underground?” Gerard asks, as Frank leads them towards the stairs. “Are there windows? Because if there aren’t windows it’s totally a dungeon.”

“It is underground and there are no windows. Also, it’s _stone_ ,” Frank says. 

“It’s a dungeon,” Gerard tells Grant. “Certifiably.”

“It’s a stone _house_ ,” Grant complains as the walk down the stairs. Frank is clearly expecting this because he mouths the words along with Grant.

Frank pulls open the door to the screening room and says, “See? Dungeon!” 

Gerard steps inside, a bit wide-eyed with curiosity, and takes in the carpets, the plush couches, the heavy drapes along the walls. “It gets drafty down here,” Grant tells him, crossing his arms and doing his best to frown at Frank’s laughter. He’s not really succeeding. 

Gerard grins at him. “That doesn’t exactly hold up your ‘not a dungeon’ argument very well.”

“Oh, sit down,” Grant sighs. Gerard laughs and does, pulling Grant down beside him. Frank walks over to the cabinet with the film reels and opens the doors.

“So, we’ve got a fine collection of Italian horror and then a random assortment of a bunch of other stuff,” Frank says. 

“Tell him to choose,” Grant stage-whispers. “He knows my collection better than I do.”

“Spend a lot of time down here in the dungeon, Frank?” Gerard asks, the picture of innocence. 

Frank shoots a smirk over his shoulder. “It’s a great place to spend time.” He fits a reel into the projector and gets it started.

The lights dimmed, Frank scrambles back to the couch and settles on Grant’s other side just as the credits start to roll. Gerard says, “Oh man, is this _The Black Cat_? Fucking awesome!” 

“I knew I liked you,” Frank says and grins at him around Grant’s chest. Grant wraps his arm around Frank and slips his hand into Gerard’s. Gerard bites his lip and shoots him a look. Grant tips his head toward the screen.

He’s seen the film before— they all have, if Frank and Gerard’s excited commentary is anything to say about it. Grant joins in. It’s almost more fun to discuss the movie than it is to watch it. 

Gerard laces their fingers together at some point. Grant tugs his hand up and kisses the back of it. Gerard flushes, lovely in the dim light of the projector. On Grant’s other side, Frank exhales, and his hand tightens on Grant’s thigh. 

Grant kisses Frank’s temple and turns to nuzzle against Gerard’s cheek. Gerard gasps. There’s no mistaking it, no hiding it.

“Yeah,” Frank murmurs in Grant’s ear. 

Grant smiles and leans in, cupping Gerard’s cheek. Gerard looks back. Where Grant was expecting hesitation, all he finds is heat. He strokes Gerard’s cheekbone with his thumb and touches their lips together.

It’s soft, and warm, and it feels so, so good. Gerard’s lips move slowly against his. He makes a little noise in the back of his throat and Grant slides his fingers back into Gerard’s hair. He feels Frank’s fingers slip up under the hem of his shirt and rest there lightly.

Grant keeps things light, waiting to see what Gerard wants. Gerard reaches up with his free hand and cups it softly around the back of Grant’s skull, just resting it there. Grant slides his tongue gently along Gerard’s lips. 

Gerard moans softly and opens his mouth. His mouth is velvety soft, warm. When they break apart, Gerard presses his forehead to Grant’s and murmurs, “Oh.”

Grant smiles. “Assuming that’s a positive ‘oh?’” 

“Fuck, yeah,” Gerard breathes. Grant kisses him again for good measure.

“Making out in the movie theater,” Frank laughs, warm on Grant’s neck. 

“Best way to watch a movie,” Grant replies. 

“I’m watching the movie too,” Frank says.

Grant laughs, and turns, but it’s Gerard who darts in to press a kiss against Frank’s lips. He pulls back quickly, cheeks pink, and Frank’s eyes are wide and warm as he touches a finger to his own lips. “I’m gonna need you to do that again,” he said after a few moments. “For science.” 

Gerard grins and crawls across the couch, leaning across Grant to get to Frank. “Mad science?” he asks, breath ghosting over Frank’s lips. 

“Fuck yeah,” Frank agrees, fisting a hand in Gerard’s hair to pull him in. Grant is completely arrested by the picture they make. Fuck, they’re gorgeous. Better than he imagined, and he has an _extremely_ vivid imagination. 

He can feel the waves of power sparking off of Frank, but he has to touch him, too. When Grant lays a hand on Frank’s hip, both Frank and Gerard gasp.

“Do you… Jesus, Frankie,” Gerard whispers. “I can _feel_ it. How do you live with that inside you all the time?”

“By getting it out,” Frank says, tugging him close again.

Grant wraps an arm around Gerard’s waist and mouths at the skin behind his ear. Gerard gasps and Grant smiles before cupping Gerard’s cheek and kissing him again. He leans in to kiss Frank then, slow and sweet. Frank curls into him like he always does. He feels Gerard beside them, leaning in to press his lips to Grant’s throat.

He pulls back and looks at Frank who looks completely blissed out. Grant chuckles. “Is this good, love?” 

“I think this might be the most exciting thing that’s ever happened to me,” Frank says bluntly.

Gerard laughs. “Fuck, I know what you mean.” He leans in and kisses Frank again. Grant watches their lips and tongues move together from inches away. 

When Gerard pulls away from Frank, Grant scoops Gerard onto his own lap and cups his cheek. “Is this good?” he repeats.

Gerard nods. “I… yeah. It’s like, five million fantasies.”

“That’s rather a lot,” Grant murmurs, kissing his cheeks and his forehead. Gerard laughs and tugs Grant in to kiss him for real. Gerard slides his tongue against Grant’s and wraps his arms around Grant’s neck. He can feel Frank pressing close. He could get used to this. 

“The movie’s going to be over soon,” Frank comments.

“So it is,” Grant agrees lightly. He sees Frank’s hand fiddling with the bottom of Gerard’s shirt. “What next?” he murmurs.

“I’m still pretty tired,” Frank admits, leaning over to rest his head on Grant’s shoulder.

“You’ve had a rough few days,” Gerard said quietly. 

“Because of my own stupidity,” Frank says. “I’m feeling a lot less stupid today, at least.” Gerard presses a kiss to Frank’s temple. Grant feels Frank take a deep breath. “I should go up for a nap.” 

Grant has a feeling tiredness is only part of Frank begging off. 

“I’ll walk you. I’ve got some writing to do,” Gerard says.

Grant catches Frank’s chin for another slow kiss. “Let me know if you need me,” Grant murmurs when he pulls back. 

“Let me know when dinner is ready,” Frank teases gently.

“I shall, love,” Grant promises. 

“Does that mean you’re cooking?” Gerard asked with a grin. 

“I’m reheating,” Grant tells him.  “Go on, I’ll clear up down here.”

Gerard laughs and climbs to his feet, reaching out to tug Frank up after him. Frank lets himself slide into Gerard’s arms for a moment. It makes Grant smile. 

He likes the relaxed way Frank moves when he’s happy.

It usually takes him most of his visit to glow like this. Grant is beyond glad to see him like this now, especially after yesterday.

The two of them leave the room chatting and Grant sets everything to rights before going upstairs. He has time before he needs to start on dinner, so he makes himself some coffee and sits at the table to sketch and write bits here and there. It’s nice. And since it’s so quiet, Heloise even comes to rumble around the kitchen floor.

“Hullo,” Grant says, grinning at her. “Left your lair, have you?”

She chitters at him and clatters under his feet. She’s secretly his favorite. A little more surly, but very sweet when she’s comfortable. She reminds him of someone, of course. He laughs at himself ruefully. He supposes he can be unpredictable in other areas of his life. 

Few people have spent enough time around Heloise to know, but she sings when she’s content. Sometimes, the house sings back.

There’s a quiet hum coming from her now. He nudges her with his feet and continues working quietly. 

He works for a while until a new sound gets his attention: the pipe organ warming up on the floor above him. He listens for a while. Gerard—it must be Gerard—is playing something strange and lilting, something that Grant _almost_ recognizes but can’t quite put his finger on. Heloise hums in tune with whatever Gerard is playing. Grant smiles. How could he ignore all this so thoroughly? It’s like his very house is rewarding him for his attention.

He closes his notebook and tucks it away in a pocket, climbing to his feet. He goes upstairs and makes his way to the music room. Maybe he can slip inside without Gerard noticing. He pauses at the door to the music room, which is just ajar. 

Fuck. Gerard is a beautiful sight. His hair is wild and he’s playing with all his heart. He looks like the Phantom of the Opera from behind. Grant has to laugh. 

Gerard hears him and turns, fingers holding down a chord. “Um. Hi?”

“Hello,” Grant says. “I couldn’t help overhear.”

Gerard smiles a little shyly. “It’s fun to play.” 

“I also couldn’t help but note that you look like the Phantom of the Opera,” Grant adds. 

“Unmasked,” Gerard says. “My hideous visage.”

Grant scoffs. “Hardly.”

Gerard smiles happily at him. “Actually, Frankie said that too. I told him I’d rather be the Phantom of the Paradise.”

“Did you sell your soul for rock and roll, my boy?” Grant laughs, walking closer and putting a hand on Gerard’s shoulder.

“Something like that,” Gerard agrees, fingers finding the keys again.

Grant stands behind him as watches Gerard play. After a few minutes, he starts playing with the stops and pedals. He’s more talented than he probably thinks he is; rusty, certainly, but he plays by ear and his ear is solid.

Finally, Gerard brings the song he’s playing to a crashing end. “I still can’t fucking believe you built all of this,” he tells Grant, as the last notes fade from the air.

“I have the time,” Grant says with a shrug. “And I hate missing things because I can’t go out to see them.” Gerard frowns at him, then gets up and gives him a hug. “I wasn’t fishing for sympathy,” Grant protests. 

“I just wanted to,” Gerard whispers. Grant wraps his arms around Gerard’s waist and kisses his temple. Gerard leans back against him. “I… I mean, of course this is okay with Frank. But. Is…What are we doing here?” 

“Enjoying each other, I believe,” Grant says.

“I like that,” Gerard murmurs.

“Good,” Grant replies and trails his lips down Gerard’s neck from his ear. “I believe I would have done this the moment I shook your hand,” he tells Gerard, “if I wasn’t committed to some level of decorum with my guests.” 

“I wouldn’t have minded,” Gerard admits. “I wanted you to. I was so disappointed when I found out that you were- that you and Frank-”

“I love Frank,” Grant admits. “But I’ve taken quite the shine to you as well. And clearly Frank has too.”

“And so -” 

“Enjoying each other,” Grant repeats.

Gerard kisses him. As before, it’s slow, and warm, and there’s promise in it. 

Grant pulls back after several minutes. “How would you like to help me heat dinner and wake up Frank?”

“In that order?” 

“If we wake Frank first, dinner will not happen,” Grant laughs.

A faint blush colors Gerard’s cheekbones, and Grant has the feeling that he wouldn’t mind that particular turn of events. “He kissed me before he went into his room,” Gerard admits. “I wanted…”

Grant smiles and kisses him briefly. “Selfishly, I’d love to at least watch, but I would not have actually minded.”

“I think Frank would have,” Gerard says.

“All the more reason for us to wake him up together.” Grant steals one final kiss, then steps back and laces their fingers together. “To the kitchen?”

“To the kitchen,” Gerard agrees, and they head that direction. Gerard’s hand feels good in his. 

“Heloise was in here with me earlier,” Grant says.

“I still haven’t met Heloise,” Gerard says. “Vince told me to watch out for her.” 

“I bet she’ll show her face for you soon,” Grant says. “She’s shy.” 

Grant notices Gerard moving quietly when they get into the kitchen. He can’t help but marvel at how perfectly Gerard _fits_ here. It feels like he belongs just as Frank does, as Vince or Cameron do when they’re at the house. Grant honestly feels that many of his guests belong to the house. But some of them feel like they belong to Grant, and it’s a different thing. Gerard is definitely in the latter category. 

He starts the oven going and Gerard comes over to get dinner out of the icebox. “Oh my god, he writes little post-its with instructions. I love Vince,” Gerard says.

“He has no faith,” Grant grouses.

Gerard grins at him. “You love it, don’t lie.”

“I love Vince dearly, as well. He has known me for many years, and he knows that I occasionally require… reminders about certain things,” Grant allows.

Gerard bumps his shoulder against Grant’s gently. “That’s what friends are for, yeah?”

“Precisely,” Grant replies, turning on the gas for the oven.

Once dinner is in the oven, they sit companionably at the kitchen table. Gerard makes himself some coffee and Grant decides on tea. “Should we take Frank some coffee when we wake him up?” Gerard asks. 

Grant smiles. “How fast do you want him to wake up?”

Gerard is really lovely when he blushes. Grant thinks he’s going to be trying to make it happen a lot. “Well, I suppose we don’t want dinner to go cold or burn,” Gerard says reasonably after a moment. 

“Coffee it is,” Grant replies.

* * *

Frank hadn’t been lying when he’d begged off—he’s bone-tired, still. But he’d wanted a moment to just… breathe, and to try and process the events of the past two days. Grant’s face when he’d come to Frank’s room last night. Gerard pressed up against him. Combined with his powers being too fucking intense, it was a lot to take in. But like some sort of switch had flipped in Frank’s brain, his insomnia seems to be gone.

He’d fallen asleep practically the second his head had hit the pillow, lips still warm from the kiss he’d given Gerard outside his bedroom door. He’s actually already awake when Grant and Gerard come in his room, but he keeps his eyes closed and his breathing steady to see what they’ll do. It’s hard, because he can smell coffee.

They’re quiet, padding their way across the room and over to his bed. He feels the mattress dip under someone’s weight. A hand strokes down his back and someone else’s lips brush his cheek. He grins. He can’t help it. “Faker,” Gerard whispers in his ear.

“Hmmm?” Frank doesn’t open his eyes, but he he arches into the hand resting at the small of his back. 

“You fool no one,” Grant says. Frank can hear his smile. He rolls over, trapping the hand and reaching for Grant’s shoulders. “Ah,” Grant says, and holds up a mug of coffee. 

“Ooh,” Frank says and sits up immediately. Gerard laughs. 

“I told you,” Grant says with a chuckle.

Frank takes the mug from Grant and steals a kiss while he’s at it—partially to see what Gerard’s reaction will be. Gerard just smiles and leans in to steal a quick kiss for himself. “I want you,” he breathes in Frank’s ear.

“Good,” Frank tells him, surprised at the depth of his feeling.

“Later, though,” Gerard says. “Or dinner will burn. Kitchen fires usually kill the mood.”

“Is there _ever_ a time that they don’t?” Frank laughs.

“It takes all kinds to fill the world,” Grant says, grandly, and Frank and Gerard both burst out laughing.

Frank lets them pull him up out of bed out of that. Grant wraps his arms around him and Frank sighs happily. “I want to talk to you later,” Grant whispers in his ear.

“Okay,” Frank agrees, kissing Grant’s throat. 

Gerard wraps around him from behind and Frank reaches back to cup his cheek. “Dinner,” Gerard says.

Frank nods, but fuck, he feels incredible right now. He’s so _warm_. And everywhere they’re touching him he can feel the spark and ebb of his power, but it doesn’t feel overwhelming anymore. Finally, he takes a deep breath and pulls away from Grant. Gerard detaches himself and they go downstairs. 

Frank pulls a chair close to Gerard while Grant finishes preparing for dinner. 

“Feel better?” Gerard whispers.

“So much better,” Frank agrees. 

“Good,” Gerard says and kisses him. “I’m really glad.” Gerard is so good to kiss, Frank nearly forgets to do anything else.

“This is okay?” Gerard whispers again. There’s a little furrow in his brow. 

“So fucking okay,” Frank promises, because it’s nothing but the truth. Maybe it should feel weird, kissing Gerard while Grant, who he’s loved for years, is just on the other side of the kitchen. But Grant is _watching_ them, and pretty soon he’s going to be back over here, and Frank will get to watch him kiss Gerard again, and that… There isn’t anything weird or bad about that.

“Good,” Gerard says. “I didn’t expect… I’m really glad. Both of you have made my time here so fucking amazing.”

Grant is frowning a little over at the stove, and it could just be about the fucking vegetables or something, but Frank’s stomach feels a little funny despite it all.

“You’re special, Gee,” Frank tells him.

Gerard smiles and his cheeks get pink and he leans in to kiss Frank’s cheek. “You’re pretty great yourself.”

Frank is pretty sure Gerard is actually some kind of weird genius. Maybe not like Grant, but some kind. Maybe that’s why this feels so easy. He just knows he likes it. 

Moments later, Grant puts the food on the table. Frank is suddenly _starving._ “Go get it, darling,” Grant tells him, kissing his temple as he rounds the table.

“He made it himself,” Gerard adds, deadpan.

Frank laughs. “Reheating things is hard work.”

“I’m a slave to you,” Grant laughs.

The jokes continue through the rest of the meal. Frank knows he’s going to miss Vince—misses him already, and wishes he’d gotten to spend more time with him—but he’s also selfishly pleased to be alone with Grant and Gerard. Grant wraps an ankle around Frank’s as they eat and Gerard keeps brushing their hands together and stealing kisses. Frank forgets to breathe each time, especially when Grant shamelessly stares. Gerard is pink-cheeked and daring, like he’s getting away with something. It’s fucking adorable. Frank is pretty fucking happy to kiss him back. He’s starting to get a fluttering feeling in his chest about tonight.

After dinner, Frank is feeling more awake than he has in days. He does the dishes while Grant and Gerard drink more coffee and eat some cake Vince left. He doesn’t feel like he’s spinning out of control anymore. When he walks back over and reaches out to tilt Grant’s chin up for a kiss, it’s not because he needs it, it’s because he _wants_ it.

Grant smiles against his lips and rests his hands on Frank’s waist. Frank sways into him, lets Grant hold him up, kisses him harder.

“Darling,” Grant murmurs, when they pull apart to breathe. 

“I feel so fucking much better,” Frank tells him. 

“That’s always the goal,” Grant replies. 

Gerard is watching them, a little smile on his face. Frank turns and kisses him as well. His lips are soft and he tastes like coffee. 

“Are you done with the washing up?” Grant asks.

“Yep.” 

“Excellent.” Grant grins at him, big and warm and crinkling around the edges. Fuck, Frank loves him so much he can hardly breathe sometimes. He wants to tell him, but there couldn’t be a more awkward time.

Gerard climbs to his feet and comes over to them. Frank draws him in close. He’s still not over how good it feels to have both of them pressed against him. It should be awkward, but it’s not. Tentative, maybe, but that’s going away with each passing breath.

“Not completely convinced that I’m not dreaming right now,” Gerard admits in his ear.

Frank smiles, slides his fingers into Gerard’s hair, and tugs. Gerard actually moans. “Not dreaming,” Frank says. 

“You sure?” Grant murmurs. “I’m not.” Gerard laughs in response, warm on Frank’s throat.

“Well, I can’t exactly pull _your_ hair to prove it to you,” Frank tells Grant.

“I’m sure you can think of something,” Grant replies.

Frank grins at him. “You should kiss Gerard. Maybe that will convince you both.”

Grant laughs. “If you think so.” 

Frank moves to the side and watches as Grant wraps a hand around the back of Gerard’s neck and draws him in close. It’s Gerard who leans in for the kiss, though, expression eager. Frank feels heat flare low in his belly at the sight of their mouths moving together. Shit. He’s never been one to be passive about… anything. But he thinks he’d be okay with just watching the two of them. 

“Gerard hasn’t seen your suite yet,” he says to Grant in a low voice.

“That’s true,” Grant agrees, voice rough. 

Gerard’s lips are pink and a little swollen, and Frank says, “We should fix that. Because otherwise I’m just going to jump you two right here on the kitchen table.”

“We can save that for after breakfast,” Gerard suggests. 

“Deal. Upstairs with you, Mr. Way,” Grant murmurs.

They take the back stairway off of the kitchen. When they reach the third floor landing, Grant twists the doorknob in the particular way that opens to door into the master suite. When they get inside, Gerard looks around, eyes wide. “And I thought _my_ room was amazing.”

“Welcome to my indulgence,” Grant says with a smile in his voice.

Frank understands Gerard’s reaction; Grant’s room is one of his very favorite places. And not just because of the wide, comfortable bed against the back wall. There’s art and books everywhere, a large fireplace, and a cozy seating area. 

“I thought _I_ was your indulgence,” Frank jokes.

“You are much, much more than that,” Grant tells him, lacing their fingers together and tugging him closer. Frank takes a deep breath and squeezes Grant’s hand. He can deal with that. 

“I believe I promised you a trip to my washroom,” Grant says. “Should I extend the same to Gerard?”

Frank grins and turns to Gerard. “Oh man. You’re gonna love this.”

Gerard looks expectant and Frank grabs his hand and drags him toward the bathroom. Frank fucking loves this room. He bypasses the bathtub (they can do that later, he thinks) and heads straight for the ridiculously large shower. There are jets and steam and a nice, big bench and it’s one of Frank’s favorite places in the house. And only partly because it usually means he gets Grant naked in there.

Gerard is interested enough in the bathroom that he seems to have forgotten that nakedness is involved. Well. They’ll have to fix that. Frank takes hold of Gerard’s thighs and draws him back so he can slide his hands around to the front and go for the button of Gerard’s jeans. He kisses the side of Gerard’s neck at the same time and Gerard actually purrs, or something.

“He likes that,” Grant murmurs, low.

“Help me get his jeans off?” Frank asks. Grant steps in front of Gerard and his hands meet Frank’s on Gerard’s hips. When Grant takes over, Frank sucks lightly below Gerard’s ear. Gerard moans. “You _do_ like that.”

“More,” Gerard murmurs. Frank bites lightly at Gerard’s throat. Gerard moans again and Frank has to smile. Pay attention to Gerard’s neck. Got it. 

He feels Gerard shift against him and his jeans puddle down around his legs. Grant has been successful. Gerard lifts his hands to Grant’s chest. “How does that feel, love?” Grant murmurs. He moves his hands to the hem of Gerard’s shirt.

Gerard moans in return and tilts his head to expose the column of his throat for Grant. “Two mouths are better than one?” Frank laughs against his neck. 

“Clearly,” Grant replies. 

“Fuck,” Gerard bites out. “You two…”

“Yeah, pretty sure all of those things are gonna happen,” Frank teases and slides his hands up Gerard’s chest. 

Gerard turns, stumbling a little as he steps out of the mess of shoes and jeans, and goes for Frank’s shirt buttons. The steam is filling the bathroom now, curling warm against Frank’s skin.

“Fuck, so much ink,” Gerard murmurs as he gets Frank’s shirt all the way off. 

Frank shrugs. It is what it is. Grant sees and laughs, hands curling over Gerard’s shoulders. “He’s a work of art.”

Gerard makes a happy noise and runs his hands over Frank’s chest. Grant comes around and starts working on Frank’s jeans. Gerard starts tracing each of Frank’s tattoos with his fingertips. 

“That’s gonna take you a while,” Frank tells him.

“Hmmm, you’re right,” Gerard agrees, fingers finding the birds on Frank’s hips.

Frank smiles and leans back against Grant. “You’re still wearing clothes,” he says against Grant’s cheek. 

“I do that,” Grant murmurs. 

“Take them off,” Frank orders.

“We should give him some more incentive,” Gerard says, licking his lips. He grabs Frank’s hips and steers him over and into the shower area. 

Grant chuckles. “As if I needed incentive. But I do enjoy watching.” 

Frank sighs extravagantly and kicks free of his jeans and shoes and presses Gerard up against the tile wall, watching him gasp as the steam and spray hits him. If he takes the opportunity to get a look at Gerard’s cock, well. It’s not like anybody here is going to blame him. Gerard has an extremely nice cock. Frank can’t decide if he wants it in his mouth or his ass more. 

Both at some point, definitely. They have time.

“Holy fuck, Frankie,” Gerard murmurs. 

“We’ll get to that,” Frank says and rolls his hips against Gerard’s. Gerard gurgles indistinctly. Frank checks to make sure he’s not actually swallowing water or something and then fastens his mouth to Gerard’s throat again.

A moment later, Grant joins them, pressing himself up against Frank’s back. Feeling both of them on either side of him clothed is one thing. Feeling their skin… it’s overwhelming. 

Grant slides a hand up the back of Frank’s neck, into his hair. Frank whines against Gerard’s throat.

“He loves this,” Grant murmurs to Gerard. 

Gerard chuckles, low, and Frank feels it in his chest. “I can tell.”

Frank rolls their hips together and Gerard moans. “So does Gerard,” Frank says breathlessly. 

“Would Gerard like his hair washed, do you think?” Grant asks.

“Hmmmm.” Frank reaches up to tangle his fingers gently in the dark strands of Gerard’s hair. Gerard gasps. “Yeah, I’d say so. You wanna do the honors?” Frank asks. 

“Oh, yes,” Grant murmurs. He reaches out and twists a brass knob inset into the shower wall closest to them, and a rain of warm water starts falling from a spout tucked away in the ceiling. Gerard makes a surprised face when the water hits his head, but the water is warm and the water pressure is perfect, so his eyes slip closed fast. 

Frank moves to the side so Grant can work. When Grant starts rubbing the shampoo into Gerard’s hair, Gerard moans, shameless and filthy. Grant leans in to kiss him before moving his head back under the spray and rinsing away the soap. “More, Gerard love?” Grant asks.

“Please.” 

Frank can’t resist anymore: he nuzzles up to Gerard’s throat and licks a wide stripe down the skin there. Gerard gasps. Frank basically never wants to stop touching him. He wants to catalogue every one of his reactions multiple times, just to be thorough. He grasps Gerard’s hip next, pushing closer to his side, kissing Grant’s shoulder for good measure.

Grant throws him a grin. “You’re next, love.” 

Frank smiles. “You know what I like.”

Gerard sticks his head under the spray and rinses, and Grant steps up behind Frank. A shudder skitters down Frank’s spine at the feel of Grant pressed up against his back, his cock snug against Frank’s ass. It only gets better when Grant’s fingers start working the shampoo through Frank’s hair. Frank moans. 

“Yes, love,” Grant murmurs. His hips move slowly as he massages Frank’s scalp. Gerard watches, mouth open, eyes hot. Frank draws in a deep breath and rubs back against Grant’s cock. He still has things he wants to say to Grant, but now he’s distracted by wanting Grant in him. And then Gerard kneels down in front of Frank and mouths at the skin of his thigh.

“Fuck,” Frank gasps and reaches out to rest his hand on Gerard’s cheek. 

Gerard wastes no time getting Frank in his mouth. Frank bites out a curse. His hips jerk but Grant moves his hands to hold him still. Gerard fucking _hums_ around his cock.

“Gerard,” he gasps. Gerard swirls his tongue around the head of Frank’s cock and his hips jerk against Grant’s firm grip. Grant shushes him, softly, kissing the back of his neck. Frank imagines he’s watching the best he can. “Grant,” Frank moans. “Gerard, fuck-”

Gerard takes him down into his throat and Frank moans again, hand sliding down to trace his fingers over Gerard’s lips. He’s fucking good at this, like he’s done it ten thousand times, like he’s been dying to do this.

“Fuck,” Grant hisses, low and fervent in Frank’s ear.

“Yeah,” Frank says. He’s not going to last long, not between Gerard’s mouth on his cock and Grant at his back. 

Gerard’s thumbs rub rhythmically over his hipbones and Frank whines. “Is this how you want to come, love?” Grant asks, fingers tightening on Frank’s hips.

“I-” Frank breaks off to moan when Gerard presses his tongue against the base of Frank’s cock. “Yes,” he moans. “Fuck.”

Frank tips his head against Grant’s shoulder. He’d be embarrassed about the way he’s panting, but he’s beyond that now. Grant’s fingers slide down to trace over Gerard’s lips, and Frank can’t, he _can’t_ His hips thrust into Gerard’s mouth and he feels himself start to come.

Frank slumps hard against Grant, vision swimming. Gerard keeps sucking him, swallowing everything down. “Fuck,” Frank moans. When Gerard pulls off, he grabs for him, wants him up with them. Gerard stumbles a little, and Frank grabs tight, pulls him in for a messy kiss.

The moment they break apart, Grant tugs Gerard’s chin up for a kiss of his own. Frank watches their lips move together from close up. He can still feel Grant’s hard cock against his ass, and now Gerard’s against his thigh. 

“Time to dry off?” Frank asks. “Because I kind of really want to see you two fuck. Or, like. Anything. I want to watch.”

“Do you, now?” Grant murmurs in his ear and rolls his hips against Frank’s ass. “I thought you wanted my cock, darling.” 

“I’m sharing. And growing,” Frank pants, kissing Gerard’s collarbones.

“Mmm,” Gerard agrees, fisting Frank’s cock loosely. Frank hisses: he’s still sensitive, and the contact sends sparks up his spine. 

“C’mon, let’s get dried off,” Frank says breathlessly and pulls toward the entrance to the shower. He dries them both off, lingering over their skin. He wants to watch, but he wants to touch, too.

While he works, Grant tugs Gerard into his arms and kisses him again, lingering with a sweetness that Frank can imagine, because he’s felt it himself so many times. This, the three of them together, hadn’t occurred to him until suddenly they were all kissing. He can’t even describe how fucking glad he is that it’s turning out this way. 

Grant just smiles whenever he’s not kissing Gerard, doesn’t stop. He’s so happy to have them both here, fuck.

“C’mon,” Frank says, soft. He grabs for Grant and Gerard’s hands. They make their way toward Grant’s big, soft bed. Frank throws back the duvet and crawls between the sheets, tugging Gerard along with him. Gerard’s pliant, a little clumsy. Eager for every touch. So is Frank. Even though he’s already come, his skin tingles everywhere Gerard trails his fingertips.

Grant gets onto the bed and leans down to kiss Gerard and then Frank. “Gerard,” he whispers, stretching out full length on the bed.

“Hey,” Gerard says, smiling.

Frank watches as Grant kisses Gerard, slides his lips down to Gerard’s neck. Gerard’s squirming and moaning in moments. Fuck, that looks good. Frank hitches himself up so he can lean on the headboard and watch. Grant rolls them so he’s covering Gerard’s body with his own, and Gerard gasps as their cocks slide together. 

Frank reaches out and slides a hand over Grant’s shoulder and down his back. Grant looks up at him for a moment, eyes intense. There are probably things they should be saying, but Frank can’t bring himself to want anything right now but _this_. From the looks on their faces, Grant and Gerard feel the same. And anyway, the words can come later. He’s pretty sure that will be okay. Frank leans in and kisses Grant, before subsiding back against the headboard. 

He sees Gerard shift and Grant gasp. Gerard has wrapped both their cocks in his hand. Grant trails his fingertips down Gerard’s side before adding his own hand to their cocks. 

“Grant,” Gerard gasps. Grant leans down to kiss him, and Frank sees Grant biting at Gerard’s lip. Grant reaches for Gerard’s free hand and pulls his fingers to his mouth. 

Gerard moans when he starts sucking. “Gonna make us come,” he gasps. 

Frank chuckles, low. “Should we let him? Or do you want something else? I still want to watch your face as he fucks you. If I have a vote, here.” Gerard can only moan and Frank meets Grant’s eyes. “I think he agrees with me.”

Grant laughs and lifts off of Gerard. “Is that what you want, Gerard?” he asks, running his fingertips up and down Gerard’s thighs.

“Fuck, yeah,” Gerard breathes. 

“Well _I_ certainly don’t object,” Grant says and lets his fingers slide down between Gerard’s thighs. 

Gerard’s hands have shifted to clutch the bedspread. “Please?” he murmurs.

Frank turns to the bedside table and rummages around in a drawer for a second, coming up with a bottle of lube and leaning over to press it into Grant’s hand. “Thank you, darling,” Grant murmurs, slicking his fingers. 

“Any time,” Frank replies with a smile. He leans over and kisses Gerard and runs a hand over his chest. 

Gerard gasps and reaches up to grip the back of Frank’s head, holding him in place. Frank can work with that. He can tell from the increasing desperation of Gerard’s kisses and the little noises he makes that Grant is working him open. 

“You’re gonna love it,” Frank tells him. 

“Kind of figured,” Gerard moans. “Oh fuck, Grant. _Please_.”

Gerard obviously loves this; Frank wonders how long it’s been since he had it. Grant leans over for a condom and gets himself in position, smoothing his hands over Gerard’s thighs. Frank rubs Gerard’s chest and watches Grant’s cock slowly disappear inside Gerard. Gerard’s eyes flutter closed. He’s breathing hard, so Frank keeps up the slow circles. He’s so busy watching Gerard that the kiss on his hand from Grant takes him by surprise.

He looks up and Grant kisses him again. Frank moves his hand to cup Grant’s cheek and smooth it back over his stubbly head. Fuck, Frank loves him. Grant pulls back a little bit and kisses his temple, the skin of his throat. Beneath them, Gerard gasps.

“Sweetheart,” Grant murmurs. “You feel too good.”

Gerard clutches at Grant’s shoulders. “Oh fuck, so do you,” he gasps. “Please.”

“You two are so fucking gorgeous,” Frank tells the both of them. He sneaks a hand down to palm his own cock. 

“Round two, darling?” Grant asks.

“Apparently,” Frank murmurs and gives himself a stroke. Gerard moans and Frank sees his eyes on Frank. Frank grins, dirty. “Yeah? You gonna watch me, too?”

“Give me something to watch,” Gerard pants.

Frank thrusts lazily up into his hand and raises the other hand to his chest. He rolls his nipple between his thumb and forefinger, keeping his eyes locked on Gerard. Gerard’s eyes are half-lidded, and every time Grant thrusts his mouth opens on a tiny gasp. 

Grant bows his head and kisses Gerard’s chest. Frank keeps staring at Gerard. He’s red and panting. His hair is sticking to his face from sweat and he’s one of the most beautiful things Frank has ever seen. 

He leans over and kisses Gerard, swallowing his moans. He can feel Grant’s thrusts himself, secondhand, and he reaches blindly for Gerard’s cock. Everything is starting to spark again and he can feel Grant’s power nudging against his own. The difference from before is that Gerard can clearly feel it, too. After a moment he realizes Gerard is begging, mumbling pleas into Frank’s mouth.

“What do you want, Gee?” Frank whispers. “What can we give you?”

“Please,” Gerard gasps. “I’m gonna- oh fuck, that feels so fucking good, I’m gonna-”

Grant starts thrusting harder, faster. Frank speeds up his strokes on Gerard’s cock. Gerard groans and pushes up into them both and comes with a string of gloriously filthy curses. When Grant follows him a moment later, Gerard _keens_ and arches, tight as a bowstring, clearly feeling the effects of Grant’s power.

Grant leans down to kiss Gerard and Frank just basks in the feeling of _Grant_ washing over him for a moment. He nuzzles up under Grant’s ear, kissing the tender skin there.

“Fuck,” Gerard gasps, when Grant pulls back. His eyes are still squeezed shut.

Frank runs the back of his fingers down Gerard’s cheek. “Beautiful,” Frank whispers.

Gerard whimpers something under his breath, lips parting for Frank’s. Grant rolls himself off of Gerard after a moment more, laying kisses onto Gerard’s throat and his chest. “You’re amazing,” Grant murmurs.

Gerard breathes out heavily. “So’re you. Both of you. Holy shit. I just can’t get over…feeling you both.”

Grant kisses Gerard’s forehead. “I’m so fucking glad. It can be… intense.”

“In like, the best way possible,” Gerard murmurs. “I’ve never been simultaneously so overstimulated and desperate for something not to be over before.” 

Frank laughs breathlessly. “Not quite over for me yet.”

“Oh!” Gerard says. “Fuck, Frankie, I forgot.” 

“You were busy,” Frank says, trailing a fingertip lightly down Gerard’s cock and making Gerard hiss. Grant laughs, low and filthy, one of Frank’s favorite sounds in the world. 

“We’re not busy anymore,” Gerard points out. 

“Yeah, I noticed,” Frank says breathlessly. 

“I believe it’s my turn to make you lose your mind, yes?” Grant asks. 

“Yes,” Frank breathes. 

“In that case, we should rearrange,” Grant says thoughtfully. He looks at Gerard, who grins and moves up so his back is resting against the pillows, then tugs Frank in between his legs, back to Gerard’s chest. Grant nods, satisfied. “What do you want, darling? My hand? My mouth?” 

“Your hand,” Frank replies. “I want your mouth other places.”

Grant laughs. “Where? Here, here?” He kisses Frank’s knee, his stomach, bites his nipple gently.

Frank hisses. “Fuck, all of the above?” Frank feels Gerard laugh behind him, rumbling in his chest. And then Gerard bites at the scorpion on his neck. Frank moans and Grant sucks hard at the base of his throat. “Fuck,” he gasps. 

“Nice clean skin here,” Grant murmurs, and Frank whines at the thought of the mark he’s making. Also at the slow drag and twist of his hand on Frank’s cock. Gerard’s teeth close gently on the shell of Frank’s ear. His power spikes. He feels it push against Grant’s and knows Gerard feels it by the sharp intake of breath against his ear. 

It’s enough to let them both know he’s about to come, and he doesn’t try to hold back. Grant presses their foreheads together and just keeps jerking him off as Frank loses it. All the while, Gerard’s murmuring filthy encouragement and praise right into Frank’s ear. It’s even better this time than in the shower. He feels like if he opens his eyes, he’ll be fucking _glowing_ from what his power is doing. It’s the one time he doesn’t hate his power: when Grant, and now Gerard, are enjoying it.

Grant keeps his strokes firm and steady until Frank is a writhing, gasping mess. He feels like the only thing keeping him from floating away is the firm press of Gerard’s hand on his belly, anchoring him. He laces his fingers with Gerard’s and wraps a hand around the back of Grant’s neck. “Please,” he gasps. 

“Always,” Grant murmurs against his lips.

Frank kisses back, orgasm-clumsy, eyes slipping closed. He hums when he feels Gerard press a kiss to the back of his neck.

“Jesus,” he heads Gerard murmur. “It keeps happening.” 

“All the time,” Frank says wryly. 

Grant makes a soft noise and gathers Frank even closer. In the process, they tip sideways a bit. It only takes a little bit of shuffling before Frank is pressed securely between them, face tucked into Grant’s neck, Gerard’s arm secure around his middle. He’s so _warm_. He’s not tired. Not _really_ , but he doesn’t want to move ever. He kisses Grant’s throat, because it’s there, because he can.

Behind him, Gerard starts laughing, little helpless giggles. “Fuck. I can’t believe-”

Frank smiles and turns his face to press it into Gerard’s neck. “Can’t believe you just had a threesome?” 

“What, and you can?” Gerard retorts. Which clearly means “yes.” Frank feels his own laugh echoed in the rumbling of Grant’s chest.

Grant slips out of bed. They both make noises of protest. “Just getting a flannel, loves.”

“Hurry up,” Frank calls.

Gerard nips at the back of Frank’s neck, and Frank squirms. He shifts so he can kiss Gerard properly. “Still want you,” Gerard whispers to him.

“Not moving,” Frank promises.

“Good,” Gerard says. Frank closes his eyes and relishes every place their skin is touching. 

He hears Grant return and lies still while Grant swipes him with the cloth. It would be so easy, Frank thinks, to tell Grant how he feels. To ask if he could just… stay. But still, something stops him. He has a life back in Jersey, and things he wants to do. 

He curls himself around Grant, tight like a vine, and Grant laughs and hands the cloth over to Gerard. A moment later, Gerard says. “Um. Should I…?”

“No,” Frank and Grant say in unison. 

“Stay?” Grant asks quietly. 

“Okay,” Gerard breathes, sounding happy. The bed shifts, and Gerard presses himself up against Frank’s back again, slinging an arm around Frank’s middle. Frank hums and kisses Grant’s chest. He lets their warmth soak into him and drifts off to sleep. 

* * *

Gerard spends a long time listening to Frank’s breathing even out. He traces aimless patterns on Frank’s chest, and tries to process everything that’s happened since he woke up this morning. It’s been… a lot. Most of which he wasn’t really expecting. Particularly not all in one day. 

His body would like him to know that it feels good, fucking fantastic, and why doesn’t he do this more often? His brain is running around in circles. He can’t deny that he’d thought about being with the two of them like this. But he hadn’t- Fuck. 

He feels Grant’s hand run up and down his arm and Gerard takes a deep breath. “Okay?” he hears Grant whisper. 

“Maybe not okay,” Gerard says.

Grant doesn’t reply for a moment, but he keeps the drag of his hand along Gerard’s arm steady. “How so?” he finally asks. 

“It’s just so much. So sudden,” Gerard whispers. “I… fuck, I wanted—want—you so much. Frank too. But I didn’t expect this.”

“You feel things deeply,” Grant says softly. “Anyone who’s met you can tell that.”

“I’m fucking _obvious_ ,” Gerard says, ruefully. 

Grant laughs quietly. “In a good way.” 

“If you say so,” Gerard replies. 

“ _He_ would say so,” Grant says, switching his hand to Frank’s tousled hair. Frank grumbles a little, but he’s clearly still asleep.

Gerard takes a deep breath. “Yeah. I just.”

“It’s all right,” Grant tells him. “To be however you want to be.”

The problem is, Gerard isn’t fucking _sure_ what he wants this to be. They should talk about it, probably. When Frank is awake for the conversation. They should probably have talked more before it ever got this far. He sighs and closes his eyes. Maybe it’s just his imagination, but he almost thinks he can still feel little sparks of Frank’s power licking across his skin where they’re pressed together. That makes him feel a little better. Reminds him that he really is wanted here. 

He falls asleep more easily than expected. 

*

When Gerard wakes up, he’s disoriented; it’s dark, and he has no idea what time it is. He’s too hot, and it takes a moment before he remembers why. Frank shifts against him and mutters something in his sleep. Gerard stares up at the ceiling. For the first time, he misses the constant light of the city. 

He thinks he ought to go back to his own room. He needs… space, maybe. Fuck, he doesn’t know. He slips out from between the covers. He can’t see much, but he gathers his clothes and creeps toward the door. 

He doesn’t really want to leave Grant’s beautiful room. He doesn’t really want to leave Grant and Frank, either. But maybe that’s exactly why he _ought_ to leave.

He gets out the door and closes it behind himself and makes his way down the hall to his room. He tosses his clothes on the floor and sits on his bed with a heavy sigh.  Maybe he’ll let them come to him. If they want to.

He pulls on pajamas and gets in bed, but he winds up staying awake for a lot of the rest of the night, scribbling into his notebook. His eyes get heavy and he slumps down onto the pillows just as light is starting to peek through the windows. He can just sleep in. It will be fine. 

Gerard expects that he’ll just doze for a while, but he ends up sleeping hard, and he doesn’t wake up until Archibald _wakes_ him by trilling anxiously six inches away from his ear. He startles and sits straight up. He can’t help but be disappointed one or both of the other two didn’t sneak into his bed while he was asleep. He looks at the clock on the wall—it’s lunchtime. His stomach responds to that information by gurgling.

Archibald wheels closer and butts gently against Gerard’s shoulder. “’M okay,” Gerard promises.

Archibald butts at him again as if to say, “You sure?” 

Gerard smiles and pats his head. “I don’t even know how you got in here. Or up on my bed,” Gerard tells him as he pulls on jeans. Archibald spins around and trills. Gerard has no idea what that’s supposed to mean.

He gets a t-shirt over his head and opens his door. Archie hops down from the bed and skitters out. He pauses a few feet away and looks back at Gerard. “You want me to follow you?” This is some serious déjà vu. He sighs and grabs a hoodie. 

Archie clatters down the hallway in the opposite direction of the master suite; Gerard follows, pushing down the little burst of disappointment in his gut. As he gets closer to the kitchen, though, he starts smelling food. It smells _amazing_. He peeks around the doorframe. Frank is cooking, and wearing an apron. 

Gerard loves him.

And oh, fuck. _Fuck._ That’s what this is. Fuck, Gerard is an _idiot_. 

“Are you going to stand there lurking all day, or are you going to come in?” Frank calls over his shoulder. 

“Um. Possibly lurk,” Gerard admits. “Just slide a plate across the floor.”

Frank scoffs and says, “Get in here, you weirdo. You missed breakfast.”

Gerard slowly steps into the kitchen. “I ended up writing half the night and then slept in.”

“Uh huh.” Frank pokes at a pot on the stove with a spoon and then walks over to Gerard, wiping his hands on his front. Gerard almost thinks Frank’s going to go in for a kiss, but he stops just inside Gerard’s personal space. Too close to be casual, but not quite close enough to be an invitation. Frank looks at Gerard, carefully. “So. You, uh. You left.”

“I…” Gerard falters. He can see that Frank’s feeling a little hurt, a lot unsure. “I needed to… to think. About things.” 

“Did you finish?” Frank asks.

“I’m not sure yet,” Gerard admits.

“Wanna talk about it?” Frank asks. 

“We probably should,” Gerard says quietly. 

“Should I ring for Grant? He’s just in the study working on some letters.”

“Maybe- maybe we should eat, first? It smells fucking great in here.” 

Frank smiles a little sheepishly. “I might have cooked that lasagna you liked last week.” He doesn’t have to say it’s forgiveness for this morning. 

Gerard gives Frank an answering smile. He knows it’s small and probably a little crooked around the edges. But apparently it’s good enough for Frank, because he leans forward and presses a quick kiss to Gerard’s lips. 

Gerard feels a little better after that. He sits at the table and watches Frank finish up lunch. Grant comes in just as they’re sitting down at the table. He smiles when he sees Gerard, warm and pleased, and Gerard feels that same punch in his gut. _Love._ He’s in love with both of them.

Grant leans down to kiss Gerard, then Frank, before sitting down. “Afternoon, loves,” he says. 

“Gerard stopped hiding,” Frank says, pushing the platter toward Grant. 

Gerard flushes, but Grant says, “Archibald did as you asked him to, then?”

The knowledge that it was deliberate makes him feel even better. Outwardly, he pouts. “He woke me up.”

“You’ll have another chance to sleep,” Grant teases gently. “Productive day, Gerard?”

“I was inspired,” Gerard says. He doesn’t miss the way Grant’s eyes go soft.

Gerard dishes himself up some lasagna and passes the spatula to Grant. “When we’re done eating, we should talk,” Grant suggests. 

“That’s fine,” Gerard replies. He won’t deny that he’s nervous, but the way they’re acting is doing a lot to put him at ease. Grant reaches over and squeezes his hand. Gerard squeezes back. 

It’s a quiet lunch. No one says much of anything. Gerard can’t help squirming a bit. When Frank notices, he knocks their feet together. Gerard captures Frank’s foot between his ankles and holds on. Frank grins at him and dishes a second helping of lasagna onto Gerard’s plate.  

“You missed breakfast,” he explains mildly.

Gerard huffs, but he takes the plate back without complaint. He eats and Grant refreshes his coffee. It’s nice to be with them. He feels a little like a small animal being tamed, if he’s being honest. And when lunch is finished, and Grant kisses Gerard’s cheek before he taking his plate over to the sink, and Frank grabs his hand and tangles their fingers together, Gerard feels… he doesn’t know. Warm. 

He feels that way a lot with them. He feels kind of silly for leaving them now, but he needed that time, he thinks. Needed to decide what he wants. Now it’s time to talk about it. Butterflies explode in his stomach.

Frank tugs him down the hallway and into one of the sitting rooms that connect to the library. He sits on the sofa and pulls Gerard down with him. Grant sits at his other side and takes Frank’s hand. 

“Did you want to start?” Grant asks Gerard.

Gerard takes a deep breath. “I… Remember when you said that I feel things deeply?”

“Yes, darling?” Grant asks. He runs his fingers through Gerard’s hair. 

Gerard closes his eyes. It feels amazing. “I also tend to feel them quickly,” he murmurs.

“And these are good feelings, yes?” 

Grant is giving him this fucking gorgeous smile. It’s the easiest thing in the world for Gerard to say, “Fuck yes.”

“I am very glad to hear it,” Grant says. 

Frank kisses his cheek. He smiles at them both, but he knows the source of his uncertainty isn’t really him. It’s them. “I like you two. A lot. A whole fucking lot. I didn’t necessarily expect what happened yesterday, but…”

“You want it to happen again?” Grant asks. 

“And keep happening?” Frank adds. 

“Is it okay to want that?” Gerard asks.

“Very okay,” Frank says immediately, darting a look over at Grant, who nods, eyes crinkling with amusement. 

Gerard takes a deep breath and his anxiety starts to recede. He smiles. “Okay.” It’s even more reassuring than he’d thought it would be.

“Okay,” Grant agrees, solemnly. He cups Gerard’s cheek and leans in to kiss him, soft and lingering. Gerard’s eyes slip closed. When Frank’s hand slides up his chest, Gerard covers it with his own. He’ll make this work somehow. He still has questions, but for now, he’s too lost in Grant’s mouth and Frank’s hands to bring himself to care. 

When Grant pulls back, he pulls Gerard into a tight embrace. “Tomorrow I want to wake up like this,” he murmurs.

“Me fucking too,” Frank agrees, pressing close and dropping a kiss to the skin below Gerard’s ear. Gerard lifts a hand and threads his fingers through Frank’s hair. Grant kisses him again. 

Gerard submits to the attention—fine, he fucking relishes it—but finally draws away. “I have more work to do this afternoon. If the two of you wanted to stay here and talk, it might be good.” He feels bold– or rash, maybe.

Frank grumbles and darts in to claim a kiss of his own. Gerard kisses him back, cups his face with his hands, then extracts himself from them. He kind of wants to stay, but they need to talk, and he wants to continue where he left off with his work. 

He passes Archibald in the hall. “I’ve got your number now,” Gerard tells him. Archibald chirps starts following him, balancing on his back wheel and weaving in and out between his legs. Gerard laughs. “Yeah, yeah. Thanks, buddy.”

He can’t help wanting to turn around and eavesdrop, but he’ll be good.

* * *

Gerard gently shuts the door behind himself, leaving Grant and Frank looking at one another, a little sheepishly. Grant reaches out, and Frank grabs his hand and squeezes. Grant feels a swell of love for Frank and draws his hand to his lips. 

“We’re supposed to talk,” Frank reminds him.

Grant nods, chuckling ruefully. “We’re very good at avoiding that, aren’t we?”

He watches Frank’s face, watches him take a breath. “I love you,” Frank says. 

Grant’s bones practically dissolve from the sheer relief of hearing it. All he can do is smile at Frank, helplessly. “I love you too. So fucking much.”

“I want-” Frank takes another deep breath. “Part of me, a big part, wants to stay here. To never fucking leave. But I… I don’t feel ready to give up everything else, either.”

Grant says, “I… come with me.” Frank looks puzzled, but he lets Grant tug him to his feet and lead him to the back stair that goes directly up to the workshop. Grant plucks the drop cloth off of the workbench to reveal his latest creation. “I’ve been working on this for you,” he explains. 

“It looks like Archie,” Frank says, inspecting the nearly-completed skeleton of the new automata, and looking curiously at the bracelets beside it.

“They’re definitely related,” Grant agrees. “But Archie runs on the same power that the house does. This little one is… different.”

“Different how?” Frank asks. 

“Well, if it works as I designed it, _you_ would power it. I designed these bracelets to respond to, and to store, bursts of energy—your energy. And the creature interfaces with the bracelets and gathers that energy to itself. I made it so you could live in the real world—no more blowing circuits or ruining your guitars when you get upset.”

“This is the real world,” Frank frowns, but Grant can tell he’s still fascinated.

“I want you to be able to have a life, Frank. To play your music and to tour and do everything you want to do. I could never keep you away from those things.” 

He watches Frank carefully. Watches him bite his lip and blink hard. “ _Grant_ ,” he whispers. “Fuck you for being so damn amazing. You were just- I’ll come _back_ , Grant, I’ll always come back.”

“I want you to,” Grant admits, feeling like the words are being torn out of him. “I always want you to come back. I always- I always want you. I love you so much, Frank.”

Frank reaches for him, insinuates himself in Grant’s arms and buries his face in Grant’s chest. “So fucking much.”

Grant strokes his hair. “Frank. Look at me.” Frank does, and Grant can’t fucking breathe at what he sees in Frank’s eyes. They’re shining, full of love and gratitude and a hint of what Grant hopes are happy tears. “You belong here as much as I do. Whenever you want to come, I want you here.”

“I want. I always want.” Frank kisses Grant’s throat and lays his head down onto Grant’s shoulder.

“My home is yours, Frank,” Grant murmurs, pressing a kiss to Frank’s temple. “My home, and my heart.” 

“Sap,” Frank teases, but his voice is warm.

“When it comes to you, I am a great many things,” Grant says. “Not the least of which is ‘sap.’”

“What are the others?” Frank chuckles softly.

“Well. Inspired,” Grant tells him, gently cupping Frank’s cheek to they’re face to face again. “And a bit mad, if I’m honest.”

Frank giggles. “I think you mean _more_ mad.” 

Grant smiles and rolls his eyes. “Obviously. Is this what Gerard wanted us to discuss?” Grant murmurs after another long moment of nuzzling, Frank’s arms wrapped around his waist.

“I think so,” Frank says. He chuckles a little, ruefully. “He, uh, wasn’t too impressed with us being in love with each other but being too stupid to say it out loud.”

Grant laughs. “I think we were both waiting for the right moment, yes?”

“We could have waited forever,” Frank says. “It would have sucked.” He sits up straight again, looking Grant in the eyes. “I love you.”

“I suspect I’m not going to ever get tired of hearing that,” Grant tells him, and Frank laughs and kisses him until they’re both breathless. He’d known. He really had. But there’s something to be said for the words. The words feel like a commitment. 

He’s glad he said them before he showed Frank the little automaton. It wouldn’t have been right any other way. And that gives him pause. 

“Frank,” he murmurs, wrapping his arms tightly around Frank’s middle and pressing their foreheads together. “Speaking of Gerard…”

“Yeah?” Frank asks. 

“He seems to be part of us as well,” Grant says.

“He does,” Frank agrees. “He’s really fucking great. I think… I think it could be really good, the three of us.”

“As do I,” Grant says. “I’d like that. And I think that’s what he wants.” Frank smiles and tips his forehead back against Grant’s shoulder. “I still have quite a bit of work to do to get this little creature up and running,” Grant murmurs. “Would you like to stay here with me this afternoon?”

“Yes, please,” Frank says. 

“Good,” Grant replies. He’s not sure he could give Frank up today. Unless it was to Gerard. He’s surprised how easy it is to share with Gerard. But then, Gerard has been a surprise in many ways, ever since he first arrived.

Grant knew he and Gerard would probably get on well, given he was coming on recommendation from the twins. Gerard has continuously proven how right Grant’s feeling was since he stepped foot inside the house. But he’s also shown surprising depths, and a surprising sense of humor about things. It certainly doesn’t hurt that he’s beautiful.

Frank extracts himself from Grant’s arms. “I’m gonna go get a book. Maybe a notebook. I’ll be right back.”

“I will be here waiting,” Grant smiles.

Frank grins and goes up on his tiptoes to press one more kiss to Grant’s lips. He slips out the door and Grant turns back to the device. Perhaps with Frank in on the secret, he’ll be able to test it better. He just hopes it works. He can’t let Frank down now.

He lets himself get lost in the intricacy of the design, and only surfaces when Frank re-enters the room.

“Is this what you were working on when you disappeared on us?” Frank asks softly. 

“Yes,” Grant answers, meeting his eyes.

“We missed you,” Frank tells him. 

Grant leans in to kiss him. “I know. I was so busy trying to make your life easier at some point in the future, I forgot to be there for you when you needed me.”

“I love that you were- that you would- I fucking love you,” Frank whispers.

Grant tangles his hand in Frank’s hair and lets himself linger there, kissing him, for a long moment. When he pulls back, Frank smiles at him and goes to his usual chair in the lab. Right in Grant’s line of sight. Grant loves having him there. 

Frank curls up with his notebook and a pen. They both set to work, stealing glances at one another every so often. Grant feels wonderful. He can tell Frank does too. After a while, he starts to wonder what Gerard is up to. 

“This house needs a message system,” he sighs.

“Speaking tubes?” Frank suggests. “Or, ooh, pneumatic tubes, so you could send notes from one part of the house to another.”

“Stop distracting me from your creature,” Grant teases, if only because he is legitimately distracted at the thought.

Frank grins. “You’d have come up with it yourself soon enough.”

“That can be the next project,” Grant allows. “Well. After I optimize the steam tanks so that Vince will stop worrying.”

“Build me a creature,” Frank orders pertly with a wave of his hand. 

“Or you’ll go look for Gerard?” Grant replies.

Frank smiles. “If I go look for Gerard, I’ll bring him right back here.”

Grant very much likes the warmth that flares in his belly at the thought of Frank and Gerard here in his workshop with him—perhaps sharing the chair that Frank is currently occupying. Gorgeous, and horribly distracting, but perfect nonetheless. “Good,” Grant says fervently. 

Frank gets up and comes over to the bench. Grant leans down for a kiss. Frank smiles against his mouth. “So, I’ll just go get him?” he asks when Grant pulls back. 

“If he’s amenable to the idea,” Grant agrees.

“I’ll convince him,” Frank says.

“All right,” Grant agrees. Frank pecks his cheek and leaves again. 

Grant allows himself a moment to smile foolishly at the as-yet unnamed creature. He’s so close to being ready to test it.

“Perhaps tomorrow,” he murmurs and tightens a bolt. 

* * *

Frank finds Gerard in one of the reading rooms off of the library, tucked up on a sofa with his sketchbook and a mug of coffee. Gerard is clearly deeply absorbed in his work, and Frank takes a moment to just _look_ at him. Fuck, Gerard is gorgeous. He looks like he belongs here too, like he was meant for this house of sweeping staircases and clockwork walls.

He wonders if Gerard will want to stay, too. Or if he’ll at least come back regularly. He also wonders what shape this thing between the three of them will take; if it will be only for this visit, or if it will become something deeper, stronger.

The thought crosses his mind: he could go back to Jersey with Gerard. That… would be a lot better than going home alone. But. Then they’d be leaving _Grant_ alone. 

He must make some kind of noise then, because Gerard looks up. The smile that spreads across his face when he sees Frank standing there is- fuck. Frank smiles helplessly back. 

“I’m here to interrupt,” he says.

“I could be persuaded,” Gerard says, already gathering his things together. “Did you talk?” 

Frank grins ruefully and scrubs a hand through his hair. “We- yeah. We did.”

“You’re smiling about it,” Gerard observes. 

“It was a good talk,” Frank replies. “Cleared the air. Stopped being idiots.”

“I’m glad,” Gerard says, softly. He stands up and crosses over to the doorway, hesitating just outside of Frank’s personal space. Fuck that. Frank goes up on his tiptoes to press a quick kiss to Gerard’s lips.

Gerard bites back a grin and gives him a second kiss, longer, deeper. Frank laces their fingers when he pulls back. “C’mon. Come see what he’s making for me.”

When they walk into the workshop, Grant’s face lights up. “You came,” he murmurs. 

“Course,” Gerard replies and steps up to kiss him. Frank thinks he could really get used to watching Grant and Gerard kiss: they both seem to get lost in it. Not that Frank doesn’t. He’s just usually not in a position to appreciate it aesthetically when it happens.

He sits back in his oversized chair and pulls his notebook into his lap. He doesn’t stop watching them as they finally pull apart and smile at each other. 

Gerard looks curiously at the workbench. “Wow, you’ve done a lot since last time I was up here.”

“Things are finally coming together,” Grant says, watching as Gerard insinuates his way into Frank’s chair.

Frank wraps an arm around Gerard’s waist and leans into his side. “Did he tell you what it is?”

“He told me it was for you,” Gerard answers, kissing Frank’s cheek.

“It’s an automaton, like Archibald and Heloise, that’s designed to power itself by leaching Frank’s excess energy,” Grant murmurs, inspecting the casing and tightening a few screws. 

“That’s amazing,” Gerard breathes and kisses Frank’s cheek. 

“Grant’s amazing,” Frank agrees. “He wanted to make sure it worked before he told me,” he murmurs. “But I’m glad he did.”

“Me too,” Gerard says. 

“It’ll be nice to play my guitar without worrying I’ll fry it,” Frank says. 

“Speaking of your guitar,” Gerard says, “maybe you could play for us tonight?”

“Sure,” Frank says, but he spares a look at Grant. It’s not the guitar he was talking about, and he feels suddenly guilty again. But Grant also knows that his guitar at home has a lot of sentimental value for him. So does the one in the music room. It’s just different. Just like Jersey is his home, but so is the manor. 

“You’re assuming the little one will work,” Grant murmurs. 

“Course it will,” Frank says confidently. “You’re making it.” He believes it, one-hundred percent. Grant is brilliant.

Gerard squeezes the arm around Frank’s shoulders and Frank looks up. Gerard is staring at him, with a smile on his face.

“What?” Frank asks, smiling back. 

“You’re pretty amazing too, Frankie,” Gerard tells him softly. Frank leans up and kisses his cheek. He settles back against Gerard and reaches for his book instead of his notebook. He looks up to see Grant staring at them. 

“Just like you pictured?” Frank teases.

“You’re not naked,” Grant says dryly, but Frank catches the flush on his cheekbones as he looks away.

Gerard pulls his legs up under him and starts doodling in his moleskin. This feels almost as good as falling asleep with them did. Frank has no fucking clue what’s going to happen with the three of them, but he’s definitely looking forward to finding out. 

* * *

Gerard feels like he has a productive afternoon, even though every sketch in his book seems to require at least two diversions to kiss Frank. They’re actually pretty much straight-up cuddling, but Gerard doesn’t feel bad about it.

He catches Grant looking at them more than once. His face is… Gerard could stand to be looked at like that all the fucking time. 

Frank declares that it’s Gerard’s turn to cook dinner. When Gerard demands to know what’s in it for him, Frank gives him a completely filthy kiss and says, “More of that.”

There is no argument Gerard can possibly make. “Hope you like curry,” he says cheerfully.

“I fucking love curry,” Frank says. 

“I have to agree,” Grant says. 

“Excellent,” Gerard says. He untangles himself from Frank, goes over to kiss Grant, and heads downstairs.

He likes working in the manor’s huge, idiosyncratic kitchen. One of the ubiquitous cats is on the windowsill. He reaches out and gives the creature a scratch behind the ears and gets to work on his curry. He hums as he thinks about all the possibilities for the rest of the evening. 

When he hears the click-clacking of claws on the tile floor, he assumes that it’s the cat. “No cat hair in the curry,” he says and something whirs in reply. Not a cat.

He looks down and… it’s not Archibald, either. 

“Heloise?” Gerard asks softly. The automata at his feet is bigger than Archie and built like a spider, with several multi-jointed metal limbs.  

She rears up on her hind limbs and waves a forelimb tentatively. 

He bends down slowly and pats her on the head. “I’m really glad to finally meet you.”

She… the closest thing he can think to call the noise she makes is a purr. When he sees Grant next, he’s asking why he built a cat-spider. Though he suspects the answer will be “because Grant.” 

“Would you like to sit on the counter?” Gerard asks, because it seems like the polite thing to do.

She trills and he bends down to lift her onto the counter next to the stove. She looks curiously at the pot on the burner and at him. 

“Dinner,” he explains. “For, uh. For me and Frank and Grant.”

Heloise clicks a few times and skitters along the counter. She settles next to the coffee maker, facing him. He’s pretty sure she’s settled in. At least for a while. He laughs a little, because fuck, how is he lucky enough that this is his life?

He picks up with his cooking, and his humming, under the watchful eyes of Heloise. He can’t stop smiling as he does it. He feels like he’s now been accepted by the house. Like Heloise is sitting there saying, “Welcome home.”

When dinner is almost ready, he looks over at Heloise and says, “Do you think you could go get them for me?” She makes her little humming, purring noise again and climbs nimbly to the floor. “Faker,” he says. She chirps at him and clicks out of the kitchen door as he laughs.

When they get downstairs, Grant beams at him. “I see you finally met our most reclusive resident.”

“She introduced herself,” Gerard tells them, grinning back.

Grant comes close to claim a kiss, then gathers plates and carries them to the table. Frank hovers. 

“I’m glad, too,” Frank says. “She must like you a lot. She never comes out for anyone but me or Grant. Sometimes Vince.” Gerard had known that, but hearing Frank say it… That same feeling of “home” curls low and warm in his belly. Frank squeezes his hand. “Let’s eat. Big plans tonight.” He grins.

Gerard grins back. He wonders if any of them have some of the same plans. He supposes he has the rest of the night to find out. 

After dinner, they end up pressed together on one of the couches in Grant’s study, listening to a record on the phonograph. Halfway through, Frank sprawls himself over Gerard and Grant’s laps and sticks his tongue in Grant’s mouth. Gerard is pretty impressed with the utter casualness of it, though it feels homey, too. In a blood-draining-out-of-his-head way.

He squeezes Frank’s calf and lets his hand drift up to rest on his thigh as he watches them kiss. Gerard’s an artist; he appreciates beautiful things. And the two of them together are one of the most gorgeous things he’s ever seen. It’s impossible not to see how much they love each other in every movement. That’s at least half of what makes them so gorgeous together. 

He’s so busy watching their mouths, that he’s a little surprised when Grant’s hand covers his on Frank’s thigh. Frank and Grant finally break apart to pant into each other’s mouths. Grant says, “I believe you promised Gerard a reward for cooking dinner, yes?”

“Yeah, and I’m over here,” Gerard points out.

Frank laughs and Grant squeezes his hand. Frank swings his legs down and he moves into Gerard’s lap, straddling his thighs. “Dinner was awesome,” Frank tells Gerard solemnly. 

Gerard laughs, a little breathlessly. “Good,” he replies, equally solemn, and reaches up to cup Frank’s cheek.

Frank smiles and leans down to kiss him. It starts slow, but when Gerard pushes his hand into Frank’s hair, Frank’s mouth opens and suddenly it’s way more intense. Beside them, Grant chuckles, and a moment later Gerard feels Grant’s hand sweeping up his thigh. For a moment he just feels how Frank strains against him while Grant’s hands sweep slowly over them both.

Feeling both of them is, feeling their powers start to hum the slightest bit is almost overwhelming. But fuck if it isn’t amazing, too. He knows Frank’s responds to emotional surges, but Grant’s appears to respond to Frank. Maybe Gerard too. 

He experiments by reaching out with his free hand and sliding it up Grant’s chest. Grant hums, and Gerard feels _something_ —a stirring of power below his hand, like a cat pushing up into the hand of the person petting it.

“I need more hands,” Gerard laughs, tugging a bit on Frank’s hair.

Grant shifts closer and slides a hand over Gerard’s stomach and leans in to whisper in his ear. “How’s this?”

“Good,” Gerard gasps. 

“Good,” Frank agrees, mouthing at the edge of Gerard’s jaw. 

Grant kisses his mouth, now, and Gerard lets them both press him back against the sofa cushions. It feels so fucking good. To have _both_ their attention… Gerard can only kiss back, return their touches as best he can. And then Frank’s clever hand is cupping Gerard’s dick though his pants, and he gasps into Grant’s mouth.

“I want you to fuck me this time,” Frank tells him.

Gerard moans loud and Grant chuckles. “He’s gorgeous when he’s getting fucked,” Grant murmurs against his lips. 

“I believe it,” Gerard says, fervently. “How, um. How do _you_ know?” 

“We have mirrors here,” Grant replies calmly. Gerard looks automatically at Frank, who’s fucking blushing. Jesus.

“Mirrors are good,” Gerard says. Fuck. 

“How about we move to the bedroom?” Grant suggests. 

Gerard doesn’t remember seeing mirrors in Grant’s suite, but he’s not going to rule anything out in this house. “Lead the way,” he agrees.

Grant does. Frank tugs Gerard by the hand to follow. Gerard grins and follows, squeezing Frank’s hand. 

Once they’re back in Grant’s suite Frank wastes no time in starting to strip. “His commitment to nakedness is admirable,” Grant murmurs, leaning in and closing the door behind Gerard.

“Only when I’m here,” Frank says. “Out in the real world, people frown on that. Or ask questions about my tattoos that I don’t feel like answering.” He pushes his jeans and briefs down his thighs and kicks them off, grinning at them.

“Next, the running leap,” Grant narrates softly.

“I’ll be sure to brace myself,” Gerard says. 

“Fuck you both,” Frank says lightly. “Just for that…” He walks casually over to the bed and sprawls out, propping himself up on his elbows and watching them with a smirk. “Gonna join me?”

Grant wraps his arms around Gerard’s waist and kisses the side of his neck. “Go on.”

Gerard takes a breath and steps toward the bed. Frank is already hard. His cock curves up over his belly and Gerard wants it in his mouth. 

“Ah ah ah,” Frank says, when Gerard moves to join him on the bed. “Naked people only allowed up here. That’s the rules.”

Gerard gives Grant an amused glance and starts stripping. Frank watches him the entire time. Gerard tries to make it… he’s not sure sexy is the right word, but Frank seems to be appreciating it. Gerard would have expected to feel a little bit self-conscious, with both their eyes on him. Instead, he feels lit up.

He can’t resist the urge to pose a little on his way over to the bed. Frank bites his lip and Gerard feels even better. And fucking turned on. “Well?” he asks, pausing at the edge of the bed. “Am I allowed?”

“Oh yeah,” Frank says. “I think yes.”

Gerard smiles and crawls onto the bed. He slides a hand up Frank’s leg as he moves up. Fuck, Frank is hard. Gerard can’t help himself; he leans down and mouths at the skin of Frank’s thigh, bites a little just to hear Frank gasp. 

He checks over his shoulder for Grant, who’s undressing lazily. He smiles and turns back to Frank. “I know you want me to fuck you, but oh my fucking god do I want you in my mouth.” 

Frank exhales sharply and reaches down to cup Gerard’s cheek. “I’m- shit, yeah. Please.”

Gerard settles in and nuzzles Frank’s thighs again. He fucking loves this part. And it always ends with a cock in his mouth. He licks down the crease of Frank’s hip and cups his balls in his hand. He feels the bed shifting behind him as Grant settles himself, but he’s focused on Frank, now. Frank makes a needy little noise when Gerard closes his lips around his balls and tugs a bit. He sounds so fucking _good_ like this. Gerard has to thrusts his hips against the mattress a bit.

“Gorgeous,” he hears Grant murmur. He’s sitting up at the headboard, stroking Frank’s hair. 

Gerard licks slowly up the underside of Frank’s cock to trace around the head. Frank moans. Normally, Gerard likes to tease. Tonight, though, he’s too impatient to hold off for very long. He takes the head of Frank’s cock in his mouth, breathing through his nose and relishing the weight on his tongue, the stretch in his jaw. And the taste. Frank’s hot, soft skin, and just - everything. 

He sucks and it makes Frank moan loud. He wants to hear more of that. He pulls off, just for a second, just to catch his breath, and then he goes down again, taking Frank’s cock as deep as he can. Frank moans again, softer this time like he forgot to breathe. Gerard squeezes his hips and keeps sucking. He feels a hand in his hair, but he doesn’t stop to check who it is. 

Over the pounding of blood in his ears, Gerard hears Grant ask Frank, “Is this what you want, darling? Do you want to come like this?”

“No,” Frank says. “No, I want. Gerard -” Gerard pulls back enough to look up.

“Want to come with your cock in my ass,” Frank says. “Please, Gee.”

Gerard has to close his eyes against the surge of _want_ that threatens to overtake him. “Yeah,” he murmurs, loving how rough his voice sounds already. “Yeah, lemme just-” He pulls back onto his hands and knees and takes a deep breath before looking Frank over, eyes flicking to Grant. Grant nods and hands him a small bottle of lube. Gerard strokes Frank’s thighs. “You’re so fucking gorgeous, Frankie,” he murmurs, tracing lines of ink with his fingertip. “This is going to be so good.” He slicks his fingers and eases Frank’s thighs apart.

Frank’s legs are trembling and Gerard leans down to kiss the center of his chest as he eases one finger slowly inside. 

“You don’t need to give him much,” Grant murmurs. “He likes the stretch.” 

“I know the feeling,” Gerard says, eyeing Grant’s crotch.

Grant smiles. “Is that what you want when you’re done with him?”

Gerard really, really fucking wants that, but he has no idea if he’ll be able to make it through fucking Frank without losing it. “At some point,” he answers, kissing Frank’s bent knee.

“Whenever you want it,” Grant says. 

“Soon,” Gerard says, vehemently, and he gives Frank another finger. “Okay, Frank?” 

Frank nods, fingers closing around Gerard’s wrist. Gerard thrusts his fingers slowly, keeping an eye on Frank’s face. 

“Fuck,” Frank gasps, when Gerard adds a third finger.  “C’mon, I’m ready, please-”

“Okay,” Gerard breathes. He looks at Grant again, the condom in his hand. “Do the honors?”

“With pleasure,” Grant says and sits forward. He tears open the condom and gently rolls it down Gerard’s cock. Gerard has to bite his lip to stop himself from moaning. 

“Fuck, he likes that,” Frank says. “You should keep touching him, Grant.” 

“Of course,” Grant says, kissing Gerard’s shoulder.

Grant helps Gerard line up and keeps his hand on Gerard’s stomach as he pushes inside. 

“Oh _fuck_ ,” Frank gasps. “Gee. Feel so good.”

“You do,” Gerard tells him.

“And both of you look incredible,” Grant says. 

Gerard wants to look over at Grant, wants to acknowledge him, but he can’t do anything except drive his hips forwards, chasing Frank’s moans. He can feel Grant’s hands, though. He’s touching Gerard a lot. His stomach, his thighs, his hips, his chest. It feels incredible. 

Frank hitches a leg up, pressing his heel to Gerard’s lower back, and it shifts the angle of Gerard’s thrusts just enough to make them both gasp. Gerard leans down for a kiss. Frank rolls his hips, and opens for it. Grant’s hand moves to Gerard’s back and he strokes down until his fingers are resting on his ass. It makes Gerard gasp into Frank’s mouth.  

“Yes?” Grant murmurs against Gerard’s ear.

“Fuck yes,” Gerard pants. Grant lets his fingers slide further, stroking lightly over Gerard’s entrance. It’s too fucking _much_ , and Gerard has to bury his face in Frank’s neck against the waves of sensation coming at him from all sides. “Fuck,” he gasps, “Oh, fuck, I can’t-”

“Come if you need to,” Frank tells him breathlessly, fingers tangling in Gerard’s hair. Gerard mouths at his neck and moves his hips helplessly between Frank and Grant’s hand. He wants to come. So badly. But he wants to make it good for Frank. He bites his lip and keeps thrusting. 

“Good,” Grant murmurs in his ear. “You’re so good, so good.”

Gerard takes a deep breath—fuck, Frank smells so good—and keeps moving steadily. Grant keeps stroking his fingers over Gerard and it’s fucking overwhelming, but Gerard doesn’t want him to stop. Frank strokes Gerard’s hair as they move together. He doesn’t ever remember sex feeling this fucking _good_ before.

“This is- this is-” He can’t even get the words out. “Frank,” he gasps.

Frank’s power is enveloping him and Grant’s is a steady hum everywhere he’s touching them. Frank’s got his head thrown back against the pillows, eyes closed, mouth slack.

Gerard presses his face back against Frank’s neck and keeps thrusting until his rhythm breaks down and he gasps wetly and comes. Frank moans into his hair and clings tightly. Gerard reaches between them and wraps a hand around his cock. “C’mon, Frankie. Come for me. For us.” It only takes a few strokes until he’s clenching around Gerard’s cock and making him gasp. 

Frank is moaning Gerard’s name loud and all Gerard can do is press kisses to Frank’s neck between gasps. Frank’s power is shuddering through him, and it’s _so much_ more intense than it had been those first times. 

Grant curls around them both with caresses and kisses. “Grant,” Gerard murmurs. “Fuck. _Grant_. Want you.”

“Anything,” Grant agrees, pressing a kiss to the skin behind Gerard’s ear. “How would you like me, darling?”

Gerard whimpers and pulls out, turning to catch Grant’s lips with his. “I don’t care. Any way. Every way,” Gerard mutters between kisses. “Just want you.”

“I do want to fuck you,” Grant murmurs. “But perhaps that can wait. You looked very, very good with Frank’s cock in your mouth.”

“I vote for that,” Frank says. “Suck him off.” 

Gerard can’t help smiling. “I can do that,” Gerard says and licks his lips. 

“Then let’s rearrange,” Grant suggests, voice tight. 

“Yeah,” Frank says, curling up close beside them. 

Gerard stretches out on his back and grabs for Grant to pull him closer. Grant slides his fingers into Gerard’s hair as he slides his cock into his mouth. Yes, this is perfect. Gerard moans a little around Grant’s cock in appreciation. Fuck, Grant is big. Gerard fucking loves it. He starts slow, licking with his tongue and sucking lightly. 

Grant steadies himself on the headboard. Frank draws soft lines up and down Grant’s thigh, and Gerard falls in with his rhythm. He lets his jaw relax and spreads his hands against Grant’s ass, urging him closer.

Grant starts thrusting, letting his cock slide through Gerard’s lips. Gerard moans around him. Grant moans above him. Gerard would smile if he could. 

“You look so good, Gee,” Frank murmurs. Gerard moans and keeps sucking. Grant’s fingers tighten in his hair and fuck, that’s good.

He works the vein underneath the head with his tongue and thinks that it won’t be long. Grant is so hard. And then he feels it; the tide of Grant’s power, cresting as he moans and his hips stutter and he comes in Gerard’s mouth. 

Gerard swallows, hands clenching on Grant’s hips. His lips and tongue are buzzing. They feel swollen and stretched and he loves it. He sucks Grant through the last of his orgasm, pulling back and licking, using his mouth on Grant for as long as Grant will let him.

Grant pulls back after a few moments, fingers still stroking through his hair. He straddles Gerard’s chest, the picture of relaxation, until Frank lays a hand on his arm.

“Yes, love?” Grant asks, still a little breathless.

Frank tugs him down until he’s cradled between them. “Just. Wanted this,” he says and curls against Grant’s side while Gerard does the same. Their hands meet on Grant’s chest and their fingers lace together. Gerard feels a satisfied smile curve his lips and breathes out a deep, relaxed breath. He feels amazing. He lets the steady rise and fall of Grant’s chest, and the weight of Frank’s fingers tangled with his, carry him to sleep. 

*

They spend the next week having sex whenever and wherever it strikes them to do so. Gerard has never had so much sex in his _life_. They fuck in the music room; there are blowjobs against the kitchen counter, and Grant fucks him over the sofa in the sitting room while Frank sits in the chair opposite them and jerks off. And of course, they fall into bed together every night. It’s fantastic.

When they’re not fucking, they’re working. Gerard outlines three-quarters of his comic and Grant swears a lot at things in his lab, which Frank assures Gerard is a good sign. Occasionally they venture outside, down to the loch or out for a wander through the grounds. They hold hands as they walk and Gerard loves every sappy second of it. 

“So uh, when is Cameron coming?” Frank says one evening, his face smushed against Grant’s bare chest, Gerard playing with his hair.

“A week from Tuesday,” Grant murmurs. Gerard is really looking forward to meeting Cameron—from the stories that Grant, Frank, and Vince have told him, he thinks they’re going to get along. But he also feels a weird rush of discomfort at the thought of someone else coming into the house. He likes their intimate bubble. If he’s honest, he’s worried about what’s going to happen when they’re not alone in the manor anymore. 

He tries not to think about it because then he always starts _over_ -thinking. He tries to stay in the moment and relish it. 

Then Grant bursts into the studio one afternoon. “It’s ready,” he says.

Gerard looks up from the drafting table he’s been working at and sees Frank jump to his feet, eyes wide. “Really?” Frank asks. Grant nods and holds out the bracelets. Frank holds out his wrists and Grant puts them on him. 

The little automaton trails after him, looking very much like Archie but smaller and more compact, just like—well, like Frank himself. Frank looks at the bracelets curiously, then back at Grant. “I don’t feel anything.”

“You shouldn’t feel any different,” Grant explains. “Whenever your power surges, it will merely go into the bracelets, and then to the creature, rather than into the environment.” 

“What if…” Gerard starts and trails off. Grant raises an eyebrow. “What if he wants it to go into the environment. Like, uh, during…” 

“Sex?” Grant asks with a smile. 

Gerard’s cheeks flush. “Yeah.” 

“He can take them off,” Grant says. 

“How close does he have to stay to me?” Frank asks, kneeling to look the little creature over.

“As long as he’s near you for long enough to absorb the power stored in the bracelets every so often, he’ll be fine,” Grant says. “And even if he lost power, it wouldn’t be the end of the world. He will power up again whenever you come back.”

Frank is still inspecting everything. “Okay. So. How do we test this setup?”

Grant grins at him. “I’ve taken a baseline reading of his energy storage levels. I thought that perhaps we could… induce your power to surge, while you’re wearing the bracelets, and then afterwards I’ll look at the levels again, and then continue to monitor them for a few days to make sure they’re holding steady.”

“Induce my power, huh?” Frank asks with a grin. 

“I volunteer,” Gerard says eagerly. 

Grant laughs and comes over to drape an arm around Gerard. “My lovely assistant,” he says. “Tell me more.”

Frank comes to stand in front of them, his grin slow and hot. “Yeah, Gee. What do you have in mind?”

“I could blow you right here?” Gerard suggests. “On my knees in front of you while Grant holds you in his arms.” 

“I approve.” 

“Me fucking too,” Frank says.

“Yeah,” Gerard breathes, leaning in to brush his lips against Frank’s temple. “Yeah, it’s a good plan. But maybe…”

“Maybe?” Frank asks. Grant rests a hand on Gerard’s waist. 

“Maybe you should pick.” Gerard leans into Grant.

“Hmm,” Frank says, turning his head to steal a real kiss. “I mean, I love your mouth, Gee, don’t get me wrong. But fuck, I like your cock, too.”

Gerard grins. “Do you? I’d never have guessed.”

“I hide it well,” Frank says.

“You’re the picture of subtlety,” Grant agrees. He slides his hand down to cup Gerard’s cock through his pants, making him gasp. 

Frank’s eyes widen, and his tongue darts out to lick his lips. “Please?” he whispers. 

“Fuck, Frankie,” Gerard moans. Whatever you want." 

* * *

Grant strokes his hands over Gerard’s hips, watching Frank. He was not planning this when he came up to the studio; it’s up to them. Frank’s eyes are hot, and he’s looking back and forth between them like he can’t quite decide who to jump on first. It’s becoming a familiar look. 

The best part is that Grant benefits no matter which choice Frank makes. He loves watching them together and loves being with them. 

He finally stops resisting, leaning into Gerard and cupping a hand over his crotch just like Grant had. “I think I want you to fuck me,” Frank says, decisively. “But… I kind of think I want to watch Grant fuck you, too.” He gives them a sly grin. “Since we’re trying to give me an energy overload, and all.”

Grant laughs and asks, “Which first?” 

“You fuck Gerard,” Frank says. Gerard’s eyes go wide. “I know you can handle it,” Frank says and adds with a sly smile, “For me.”

“Are we doing it…here?” Gerard asks.

Grant laughs and pretends to consider. “I suppose the window seat _is_ barely large enough for one. Perhaps two, if one of the two is Frank.”

“I don’t care where it is as long as it happens. You fucking got me going,” Frank says. 

Grant lets go of Gerard with one hand to reel Frank in. Frank reaches up to cup both his hands around Grant’s skull and kisses him, lush and deep and so, so warm. Fuck, Grant loves him so fucking much. He holds Frank close, slowly grinds his hips against Frank’s before pulling back and reaching for Gerard. 

“Let me show you something,” Grant says, drawing him over to the bookshelf on one wall and reaching for the catch for the hidden door there. Gerard’s eyes go as wide as golf balls; fuck, this is fun.

“Show-off,” Frank murmurs, kissing the back of Grant’s neck. 

“I take my moments when I can get them,” Grant replies and grins over his shoulder. 

On the other side of the door and down a small passage is a small sitting room. Its main feature is a tall, thin stained glass window flanked by armchairs and a large chaise.

“Big enough for three,” Frank observes.

“Perfect,” Gerard says. “Jesus Christ.” He gazes around the room and Grant watches him with satisfaction. Frank still looks at the manor like it’s magical, but he’s familiar with it now. 

Grant steps closer to Gerard and hooks a hand behind his belt. “You know, I’d expected that you’d have found more of the secret passages by now. But I suppose you’ve had… other things to think about, haven’t you?” 

Gerard hums an agreement and arches up, meeting Grant for a kiss. “So many other things to think about,” Gerard says. “You’re supposed to fuck me.” 

“You’d better take those jeans off, then,” Grant tells him.

“Maybe Frank should do it,” Gerard suggests. 

“Tease,” Frank accuses, hands going to Gerard’s belt buckle. 

“Call it a preview of coming attractions,” Gerard fires back.

“Very attractive,” Grant says, propping a hip against the back of the chaise.

“More than attractive,” Frank says. “That’s not a fucking strong enough word.”

“You’re not so bad yourself,” Gerard says, tangling his fingers in Frank’s hair and pulling him in. Frank kisses back, but works on Gerard’s clothes at the same time. Grant loves watching Frank’s hands work the buttons and zips and pull at Gerard’s clothes. He loves the bulge he can see in Frank’s jeans. 

Frank tugs Gerard’s shirt up and over his head, leaving Gerard’s hair a complete bird’s nest. It’s ridiculous, and charming,  and Grant _aches_ from how much he feels for the two men in front of him. He’s never going to look at this room the same way again. Or any other room in his home. 

Frank finally gets Gerard naked and then he turns to Grant. “And now you?” he asks. 

“Now me,” Grant agrees, spreading his arms. “Some assistance, love?”

“All of it,” Frank replies. He tries to climb up Grant a little to kiss him first and it mostly works. Grant can’t stop himself from wrapping his arms around Frank briefly. He pulls away and lets Frank continue undressing him. 

“You two are so fucking gorgeous,” Gerard murmurs, pressing close. Mostly this causes Frank to make less progress with Grant’s clothing instead of more, but it’s a sacrifice Grant can make.

Grant kisses Gerard’s temple and enjoys the feel of his hands between them. He enjoys it even more when Frank succeeds in stripping Grant out of his trousers, and he and Gerard are pressed skin to skin. Gerard is so lovely, distractingly lovely. 

He runs his hands down Gerard’s arms and tugs him closer by his hips, strokes his hands down to cup Gerard’s ass. Gerard gasps when Grant’s fingertips trace down, down. “We should get on the couch, like, now,” Gerard says, voice a little unsteady. 

“Lead the way,” Grant says, but he has to lick along Gerard’s also distractingly lovely jaw first. Gerard moans, but his hands pull Insistently toward the chaise. Grant lets Gerard pull him on top of himself. 

He glances over at Frank, who’s finally stripping off his own clothing. He pulls something out of his pocket. A small bottle of lube and a condom. “Really, Frank?” he laughs. “Fuck, I love you.”

Frank grins. “I’ve had stuff in my pockets for the last week.” Grant grins and shakes his head and pulls Gerard in for a kiss. Frank perches beside them and sets a hand on Grant’s hip. Beneath him, Gerard squirms a little. 

“Impatient, darling?” Grant murmurs against his lips.

Gerard huffs. “Yes. Fuck me, please?” he asks with his big eyes wide and beseeching. 

Grant smirks down at him. “I would love to. What do you want to see, Frank?” 

“Bend him over the chaise,” Frank says promptly.

The way that Gerard’s breath hitches betrays exactly how much he likes that idea. Grant moves back and Gerard sits up and turns around, leaning over the back of the chaise, displaying himself for them. Grant moans and runs his hands over Gerard’s ass. 

“Fuck,” Frank whispers, his hand going to press against his briefs.

Grant can’t resist the urge to lean in and press a kiss to the small of Gerard’s back. Gerard sucks in a breath. “Please?” Gerard asks. “Fuck, Grant.” Grant pulls back to get his fingers slick and sinks two of them into Gerard without hesitation. Gerard moans _loud_ and arches back into the touch. “Fuck, that feels so fucking- Grant, shit-”

Grant kisses between his shoulder blades and starts fucking him with his fingers. Gerard shudders and moans. “So responsive,” Grant murmurs. 

Gerard pushes back, pressing his cheek against the side of the chaise. Grant strokes his hair and crooks his fingers.

“He’s not going to need much,” Frank says, bending to drop a kiss on Gerard’s shoulder blade.

Gerard shakes his head. “Want you so bad.” 

“Save some for Frank,” Grant tells him.

“Then quit fucking around and _fuck me_ already,” Gerard demands.

Frank giggles and Grant smiles at him before drawing his fingers out of Gerard and lining up. “That better?” he grits out as he pushes in.

Gerard’s only response is a string of breathless “ah ah ah” gasps as Grant thrusts until they’re flush, hips pressed together.

Grant rests his forehead against the back of Gerard’s neck and breathes for a moment. “You feel so fucking good,” he murmurs. 

“Ditto,” Gerard groans, wriggling his hips.

Frank tangles a hand in Gerard’s hair and dips down to kiss him, swallowing the pretty noises that he makes as Grant starts thrusting, but Grant isn’t complaining; the two of them together are a fucking _inspiring_ sight. Grant starts thrusting hard and fast, keeping his eyes on Frank and Gerard. There’s tension in Gerard’s shoulders. He’s clearly doing everything he can to maintain control. Grant strokes up and down his spine as he thrusts. Usually he tries to control his own orgasm, but today he provokes it.

“Beautiful,” he murmurs. “You’re perfect, both of you, so fucking perfect.” He feels it starting to pool in the base of his spine. He keeps thrusting, moving until he starts to come, and then he lets himself relax against Gerard’s back. “Fuck,” he breathes. “I don’t think I’ve come so quickly since -” 

“Shh,” Frank says, kissing his temple. “Fuck, that was hot.”

Gerard’s head is hanging down, and he’s breathing hard. “Just- just don’t pull out yet, okay? I just- I need a second.”

“Whatever you want,” Grant murmurs. He holds himself steady, lips pressed to Gerard’s neck until he whispers, “okay.”

Pulling out does indeed make them both whimper, and Grant stands to deal with the condom while Gerard turns over and Frank leans closer.

“You want me to ride you?” Frank asks, running a hand down Gerard’s side. Gerard moans. “I’ll take that as a yes,” Frank says with a grin. 

Grant takes his place on the side of the chaise. Frank makes grabby hands towards the bottle of lube on the side table, and Grant laughs and passes it over. He feels loose and happy.

Frank rolls a condom over Gerard’s cock and then slicks it up before handing the lube to Grant. “I want your fingers too,” he says. “Just a little.” 

“Of course, darling, ” Grant says, kissing Frank’s shoulder. Grant knows what Frank can take; he gives him two fingers to start with, just to hear him hum with pleasure. He moves his fingers slow and steady. It’s the kind of thing that makes Frank crazy and needy, so he’s going to drag this out as long as Frank can stand.

Frank’s eyes flutter shut, and Grant kisses his neck. Gerard is biting his lip beneath Frank, clearly starting to feel pretty desperate himself. 

“Frankie, kiss Gerard,” Grant murmurs.

“Okay,” Frank murmurs eagerly. He curves his body down and reaches out to tangle his fingers in Gerard’s messy hair. The light from the stained glass window reflects off the bracelets around his wrists. Grant crooks his fingers just to hear the moan Frank produces. It’s somehow even better muffled against Gerard’s lips. The bracelets seem to be working. No stray waves of power. 

Grant removes his fingers. “Now, Frank.”

“Ready, Gee?” Frank asks.

“ _Please_ ,” Gerard begs. Grant smiles and holds Gerard’s cock for Frank as he starts to sink down. Gerard curses inventively. Frank lets out a dirty little moan. Grant’s cock stirs a little at the combination.

He has to laugh, because fuck, what fate did he fool into letting him get this lucky? Having Frank even only sometimes had already been an embarrassment of riches; now he _has_ Frank, and they have Gerard, too. 

Gerard’s fingers are gripping the cushion of the chaise tightly. Grant unwinds his hand and laces their fingers together. Frank is riding him hard; Grant is fucking transfixed just watching him. “Beautiful,” he murmurs. 

“So fucking gorgeous,” Gerard adds. “I can’t. Fuck.” A flush is creeping down Gerard’s neck and chest. His hair is clinging to his temples. Frank is biting his lip in concentration. They’re outrageously lovely.

“How does he feel, Frank?” Grant asks, whispering the question against the shell of Frank’s ear.

“I… so good. Don’t want it to end,” Frank moans and strokes his hands over Gerard’s chest. 

Gerard laughs breathlessly. “Gonna. Soon. Fuck, Frank.”

Grant presses up against Frank’s back and wraps his fingers around Frank’s cock. Frank moans loud. Grant can feel it in his chest, against his lips on Frank’s neck. Frank rocks frantically back and forth between Grant’s hand and Gerard’s cock.

“Frankie, Frankie, please,” Gerard pants. He ’s clearly only holding on by the skin of his teeth.

Frank bends down. “Come, Gee,” he whispers and kisses Gerard. Gerard groans gratefully and arches up, tipping Frank back into Grant and coming immediately. 

Grant concentrates just enough to send a flicker of his power outwards, into Frank everywhere they’re pressed together. Frank keens and swears and comes, sagging back against Grant’s chest. Grant lets go of his cock and kisses his neck. He rubs a hand over Gerard’s stomach. 

Frank rubs their cheeks together. He and Gerard are staring at one another. It’s hot, and Grant is a lucky bastard.

“I didn’t feel anything,” Gerard says, softly, stroking his hands up and down Frank’s side. 

Frank snorts. “If you didn’t feel that, I was doing something wrong.”

“Oh my god,” Gerard says. “I meant. You know.” He taps a bracelet. “All the things I did feel were…fuck. Frank. So good.”

Frank nods, a little shaky. “I could definitely feel it,” he says, “but I could tell it wasn’t overflowing like normal.”

“Because it was flowing into the bracelets,” Grant murmurs. “And powering your creature. Who you really should name.”

“You distracted me,” Frank protests.

“Terribly sorry,” Grant says, not feeling sorry at all.

Frank kisses him and leans down to kiss Gerard. Grant watches the curve of his back, the tattoos on the small and just below his neck. Grant loves every line. He gets up to dress. He’s anxious to check the new little automaton’s baselines. Frank and Gerard are still trading lazy kisses on the chaise. He smiles down at them and goes back into the studio where the creature appears to be waiting patiently for them. So is Archie. He is just as interested in his small relative as the rest of them are. 

Archie is circling the new creature, trilling curiously, head tilting. The new creature is humming back, shifting from side to side a little. Grant smiles broadly. It’s absurdly cute, really. He wonders how the cats will react to the newcomer. Probably well; Grant has tested their patience with many an invention over the years.

He hears footsteps behind him, and turns to see Frank and Gerard, disheveled and flushed, hands linked. 

“Archibald seems to be taking to it well enough,” Grant says. 

“Good,” Frank says. “The real test will be Heloise.” Frank picks the little one up and cradles him at chest level. “Hello,” he murmurs. He gets a pleased hum in response. The new creature reaches out and taps Frank’s bracelet. “Yeah,” Frank says, grinning, “yeah, that’s for you.”

“What’re you gonna name it?” Gerard asks. 

Frank cocks his head to the side. “Hmm. Something to go with Archibald and Heloise. It’s only proper.” He strokes the creature’s head for a moment, then says, “Remington. Remy.”

“Perfect,” Gerard agrees. pressing in close. 

Grant steps close to them. “Well, Remy, I’m going to need to open this panel and look at things. Don’t mind me.”

He fishes his toolkit out of a pocket and sets to work. In his peripheral vision, he sees Gerard bend down to scoop up Archibald so that the two creatures can have what appears to be a serious discussion in hums and clicks.

Frank is watching Grant. “Can you make another Remy for yourself?” he asks quietly.

“I’ve done some calculations, but… My power is much stronger than yours, love. I’d overload this little one in seconds. And it was tricky enough getting the circuits to balance once,” Grant murmurs. Frank makes an unhappy noise, and Grant has to bring a hand up to his cheek and draw him in for a kiss. “It’s alright, love. I’m more than happy with the life I have. And who knows—perhaps I _will_ make it work, someday. For now, I’m perfectly content.”

Frank looks somewhat satisfied, and Grant goes back to Remy’s readout.

“Everything looks right,” Grant says and shows Frank. “This,” he says pointing at a line, “is the baseline he needs to run. This,” he points at a line well above the first, “is what happens with a power spike.”

“Power spike,” Frank repeats, the flush creeping back into his cheeks. 

“Indeed,” Grant says, smiling helplessly at him. “Let’s just… continue as usual and keep checking periodically.” He’s fairly sure the design is holding up, but it won’t hurt to watch closely. And he’s rather desperate not to give Frank any ideas about leaving quite yet.

Frank nods. “Yeah, definitely. What do you think, Remy?” he asks. Remy makes a noise that Grant is fairly certain is happy. 

“Suits him,” Grant says. He catches Gerard watching them with a fond smile, eyes warm. “Yes, Mister Way? Something to contribute?”

“Just admiring the view,” Gerard says.

“We are a rather pleasant view,” Grant says and kisses Frank. 

“Yeah,” Gerard agrees softly. “You two…”

“Does that thought have a conclusion?” Grant asks.

“I love you,” Gerard says and his eyes dart quickly to the side, like he’s afraid of their response.  

Grant hears Frank’s soft gasp, but his own eyes are fixed on Gerard. Beautiful, ridiculous, _perfect_ Gerard. “That was brave,” he says, finally.

Gerard shrugs. “Sometimes you just have to say it. Not brave so much as… necessary.”

It’s Frank who goes to him, who takes his hand and tugs him close, who cups a gentle hand around the back of Gerard’s head and kisses him, kisses him. Frank, who’s also brave. Grant is feeling a bit less than. He doesn’t know what he did to deserve the love of both these beautiful men, but it takes his breath away. So he uses his actions to tell Gerard what he can’t quite say, yet—he presses in close and drops a kiss on Gerard’s temple, and when Frank pulls away, Grant ducks in to take his place.

He could kiss Gerard all night, he goes so beautifully pliant and intent. He lifts a hand to slide his fingers into Gerard’s hair and Gerard clutches back. 

“You’re a part of us,” Frank murmurs into the skin of Gerard’s throat.

“It’s true,” Grant whispers. He feels Gerard’s body sag with relief. Grant caresses his scalp. “You belong here with us,” Grant tells him. “I could feel it from the very first, but I wasn’t sure-” 

“I’d go anywhere where I could sit and talk with you every day,” Gerard tells him, leaning against Grant’s chest.

Grant wraps his arms tightly around Gerard. “Well, I shan’t be going anywhere anytime soon.”

* * *

They spend the rest of the day curled up together on the couch in the basement cinema, taking turns choosing which film reel to watch and exchanging long, lingering kisses. Frank toys with his new bracelets every once in a while, but they’re comfortable - Grant pays attention to every detail - but…new. Lots of things are new. All good things, though. And fuck, Gerard saying what he did earlier… Frank can’t stop touching him now. 

They swap places every so often; right now, Frank is sprawled over Gerard’s chest, rubbing his cheek over Gerard’s shirt. He is warm and smells like coffee and paint. He slides his fingers back and forth over Gerard’s collarbone. Gerard has one arm slung around Frank’s waist and the other is holding onto Grant. Frank is warm and even though he’s not particularly tired anymore, his eyes keep slipping closed. He’s seen this movie anyway. He’d rather nap on Gerard. Or kiss Gerard. Or Grant. But Gerard’s head is in Grant’s lap, which mean Frank isn’t exactly in kissing range. 

It’s all right, though. Frank is more than content where he is, pressed together with these two men that he loves. He grins into Gerard’s chest. _Loves_.

“Gerard,” he whispers.

“Yeah, Frankie?” Gerard murmurs. 

“I love you, too,” Frank says. 

Gerard hums happily and drops a kiss into Frank’s hair. Frank stares at the film for a minute more before thinking _fuck it_ and rolling over to face Gerard. Gerard’s mouth is open to say something when Frank kisses him. He makes a surprised noise and it’s awkward, but after a few seconds, he happily starts kissing back. 

He hears Grant’s soft chuckle from beside them. Maybe it is funny, how he can’t go an hour without kissing one of them, but he’ll admit he’s addicted. As far as addictions go, he thinks this is a pretty good one to have. 

At some point it feels like dinner time, so they go up to the kitchen. Remy trails after Frank. He’s starting to get used to it—Remy’s actually a very quiet automaton, ticking softly like a pocket watch most of the time. He’s cute. Smaller than either Archie or Heloise, and he seems to know to get out of the way when Frank is moving around a lot. Also, he doesn’t seem to _need_ to be near Frank all the time, as demonstrated when Archibald appears and trills excitedly at him, and the two of them scamper off for parts unknown.

Frank wraps his arm around Grant’s waist. “Love you,” he says, because he’s seriously addicted to that too.

Grant turns his face and kisses Frank’s temple. “And I love you.”

*

After dinner, Frank announces, “Okay, bedtime.” No passing go, no two hundred dollars. Frank doesn’t want to stop and think. Or if he does, he wants to do it naked.

Gerard laughs, Grant smirks, and neither of them argue. Up in the bedroom, Gerard drops to his knees in front of Frank and says, “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about this. Sucking you off while Grant holds you.”

“I… fuck, okay,” Frank stammers. 

Grant wraps around him from behind. “I’ve been rather fixated on this as well.”

Gerard smoothes his hands over Frank’s thighs. “Grant, could you…?” 

“Of course,” Grant agrees, clever fingers finding the front of Frank’s pants and unfastening them. Frank tries to say something but all the blood has rushed out of his head.

Gerard pulls Frank’s briefs down and leans in to kiss the soft skin below Frank’s belly button. Frank gasps as Gerard’s mouth slides lower. It’s just… Gerard’s _mouth._ And he’s so hot, and he wants Frank, and…. He slides his tongue down Frank’s shaft and Frank is really fucking glad of Grant’s arms around him. 

“Love how you taste,” Gerard murmurs. He noses along the skin where Frank’s leg meets his thigh.

“So much,” Grant adds, licking Frank’s neck.

Frank bites his lip and moans, tipping his head for Grant. “Please,” Frank gasps, but Gerard doesn’t take the hint— he just keeps licking and nuzzling, never quite putting his mouth where Frank really wants it. He doesn’t think Gerard is even really teasing. He just fucking wants to have his mouth on Frank. Frank is going to die.

Grant reaches down with one hand and slides his fingers through Gerard’s hair. Gerard grins up at them. “Admiring the view?” Grant asks gently. 

“It’s a fucking incredible view,” Gerard tells him. It’s an echo of their earlier conversation, but fuck, it’s so much better, because there’s no uncertainty here. 

“You’re making him whine,” Grant says. “As much as I endorse that…”

Gerard smirks. “You want more, Frankie?” 

“Yes,” Frank moans. 

“Say please,” Gerard says pertly. 

“Fuck you,” Frank gasps.

Gerard _tsks_ and says, “That’s not very polite, Frankie.” He takes a leisurely detour down, mouthing at Frank’s balls. 

“I am going to die,” Frank tells him. Politely.

Grant laughs in his ear. “Say please, darling,” he murmurs. 

“You’re- ah! You’re fucking lucky I love you both,” Frank grouses. “Motherfucker, please, please put your mouth on my dick.”

“Oh, is that all?” Gerard closes his lips promptly around Frank’s dick and Frank promptly groans because _fuck,_ it feels good.

Grant holds him tight, insinuating a leg between his thighs to help keep him upright. Frank can feel how hard he is through his trousers. “Gerard, you are every bit as gorgeous on your knees as I would have imagined,” Grant murmurs. 

Gerard’s fingers tighten on Frank’s thigh. Frank can feel the noise he makes. “He’s right,” Frank moans. “You look so fucking good, it’s unfair.”

Gerard fucking _hums_ around Frank’s cock, pleased, and Frank’s knees just about give out. Grant squeezes his arms. “I have you, darling.”

Frank nods and watches his cock disappear into Gerard’s mouth over and over. It’d be hypnotic if it didn’t feel so fucking good. Frank lets his head fall back against Grant’s shoulder and just tries to breathe. Grant’s cheek is slightly scratchy against his temple. Frank reaches up to touch it. He breathes deep and keeps his eyes on Gerard. “Fuck, Gerard,” he moans. 

Gerard pulls off with a wet noise, and looks up at them through his eyelashes. 

“You’re the best, Gee,” Frank whimpers. “The very best, please don’t stop.”

Gerard smiles up at him, strokes his thumbs over Frank’s hipbones, and takes Frank’s cock in his mouth. 

“Give him more, love,” Grant murmurs. 

And Gerard does, takes him all the way down in his throat, and fuck, Frank isn’t gonna last if he keeps doing that. He leans heavily against Grant. Grant holds him and murmurs filth in his ear. Frank’s hips fuck into Gerard’s mouth, Grant grinds his cock against Frank’s ass, and it’s so _much_. Frank moans helplessly and clutches at Gerard’s hair. Gerard keeps sucking, keeps moving with Frank as he fucks Gerard’s mouth. “Fuck, Gee,” Frank gasps. “Close.”

Gerard just lets Frank do what he wants, takes everything Frank gives him. He’s the dirtiest thing Frank has ever seen. Frank’s fingers tighten in Gerard’s hair as his hips stutter. He comes, moaning loud. Grant’s arms around his waist are the only thing keeping him from sliding to the floor. Gerard just keeps licking and sucking at his skin until he’s clean, not letting up even when Frank is whimpering and squirming from the sensations.

When he finally goes stop and attempt to rock back on his heels, Grant’s hand stops him and tugs him up. Gerard grins at him, and Frank does his best to grin back, though his brain is still kind of scrambled, so who the fuck knows what expression he actually manages. “Good?” Gerard murmurs. 

“Fuck,” Frank agrees, vehemently. He can’t think of any other words right now. “You,” he tries. “Grant.”

They both laugh, Grant in his ear and Gerard against his lips. “Perhaps we should move to the bed?” Grant suggests. 

“Yes, good plan,” Frank breathes. He laughs then. “We’re not even naked. We should fix that.”

“Definitely,” Gerard says, agreeably. “Only naked people are allowed on the bed, if I recall.”

“I ought to make a sign for my wall,” Grant says dryly.

“Just to clear up any confusion,” Frank says as he pulls out of Grant’s arms and gets his shirt off. He’s still a little weak in the knees. 

Gerard strips his shirt over his head and walks towards the bed, shedding his pants and kicking out of his boxers as he goes. He’s hard, his cock curving up towards his belly. Not that Frank is surprised. He looks so fucking good, though. Frank still wants both of them so fucking much. 

By the time Frank manages to struggle out of his three layers of shirts, Grant has joined Gerard on the bed. Gerard grins and rolls him over, stretching out on top of him. Frank stands at the foot of the bed and stares at them for a minute. Grant is long and lean and propped up on his elbows; Gerard has his hands cupped gently around the curve of Grant’s skull. For all that Frank _knows_ they’re both hard, both totally ready, the kisses are sweet. He makes a little involuntary noise.

“Come here, gorgeous,” Grant murmurs. 

Frank climbs onto the bed, drawing a hand up the back of Gerard’s leg and resting it lightly on his ass. Gerard flashes a look back at him. Fuck, his mouth is all swollen. It’s obscene.

He leans in and kisses Gerard’s shoulder, up into his hair, and around to his mouth. Kissing Gerard is different from kissing Grant. Grant is gentle, endlessly giving. Gerard is hungry. He likes it both ways. And likes that he’s starting to feel a bit of the other’s style in both of them. 

Grant says, low, “I could spend my whole fucking life watching the two of you, and never tire of it.”

“Okay,” Frank says quietly. Grant reaches out to grasp his wrist. This feels like a _moment_. 

Gerard rests his head on Grant’s chest, watching them. Frank stretches out beside them, leaning in to kiss Grant. “You really mean that,” he whispers.

“I do,” comes the reply. 

Frank has to close his eyes against the rush of feeling that threatens to overwhelm him. “Grant, I love you so much,” he says.

“And I love you,” Grant whispers in reply. 

Frank darts a look over at Gerard, but he’s just watching them, eyes warm. He doesn’t look at all concerned, and Frank is fiercely glad. 

Frank takes a deep breath. “I’d like to spend the next part of this evening watching you,” he murmurs.

“I think we can accommodate that,” Grant says with a smile. 

Gerard hums his agreement, rubbing his cheek against Grant’s bare chest. “What do you want to see, Frankie?”

“Show him how much you love him,” Frank mumbles.

“I can do that,” Gerard murmurs and leans in to kiss Frank, then turns back to Grant. Grant reaches out to tuck a strand of hair behind Gerard’s ear, smiling. 

“How are you going to do that, Gerard love?” Grant asks.

Gerard smiles. “By kissing you,” he says and leans down to kiss Grant. “And touching you.” Gerard runs a finger over Grant’s eyebrow and down his cheek. “I’m gonna take my time,” Gerard continues, sounding almost thoughtful. “Yeah. I’m gonna figure out what makes you moan.”

“What has the last week been about?” Grant asks with a smile in his voice.

“Preliminary study,” Gerard replies. “This is a more advanced course.”

“I see.” Grant relaxes against the bed, hands clasped loosely behind his head. “Well, then. Do your worst, love.”

Frank clasps one hand gently around Grant’s bicep, just to touch him. Gerard slides his lips down Grant’s neck and starts sucking. He pays careful attention to Grant’s collarbones, pressing tender kisses on each one. No moan, but Grant does suck in a breath and tilt his head back.

Gerard goes back to sucking a spot on his neck, clearly intent on leaving a mark. 

“Possessive, are we?” Grant asks. He’s clearly going for casual, but his voice is tight.

“The most,” Gerard mumbles, not stopping what he’s doing.

Grant wraps his arms around Gerard briefly and leans to kiss the top of his head. “Keep going,” he murmurs. So Gerard does. Deliberately, and devastatingly slowly, he makes his way down Grant’s chest, biting and sucking, marking.

Grant fucking giggles when Gerard gets to a spot on his ribs. Even Frank hadn’t known he was ticklish there. Gerard lifts his head and grins up at Grant. “Maybe if I do this?” He touches the same spot again and this time, Grant moans. 

Frank laughs softly and leans in to drop a kiss on Grant’s lips, biting a little bit. “He got you,” Frank whispers. 

Gerard laughs. “Like I’m done.”

“Then keep going,” Frank says and leans in for a quick kiss. Gerard wraps a hand around the back of his neck and makes it anything but quick. They’re both breathless when they pull apart. Grant is staring again. Gerard ducks down to continue his exploration, but Frank matches the stare with his own. Grant’s eyes are soft and Frank likes seeing when Gerard hits a sweet spot by how they change. 

When Gerard deliberately skips over Grant’s cock and moves down, biting at the skin of his thighs, Grant gasps, “You’re quite thorough, love.”

“Sorry?” Gerard laughs.

“Keep going,” Grant murmurs and Gerard smiles. 

“Okay.”

Gerard discovers another ticklish spot at the back of Grant’s knee. This time Grant squirms so hard he dislodges Gerard, and Frank takes the opportunity to move in and give a few kisses of his own. Grant moans again.

He fucking loves that they can do this for Grant. He deserves to be _shown_ how much he’s loved. Grant is so, so hard, has to be aching with it, but he’s just staying still and letting them do whatever they like. That’s how much he loves them—both of them, no matter what he’s saying or not saying. Frank pulls back and smiles at him, then settles against his side and turns his eyes back to Gerard. 

Gerard’s own cock is straining against his belly, but he doesn’t seem inclined to hurry. Frank is really fucking impressed by their self-control. He reaches out to touch the pale expanse of skin under Gerard’s arm.

Gerard whimpers and takes a deep breath before kissing the top of Grant’s thigh. “Beautiful,” Gerard murmurs into Grant’s skin. He slowly, slowly curls his tongue around the shaft of Grant’s cock and Grant lets out a sobbing breath.

Frank rubs Grant’s chest, kisses his shoulder. “You look incredible like this,” he whispers. It’s the truth; stretched out like this, Grant is lean and all long lines, and every one of them is tight with the tension of keeping himself still for Gerard. 

Frank tilts his head for a kiss, even as Gerard keeps up his licking exploration. Grant kisses him back, gasping and moaning against Frank’s lips as Gerard works. When Gerard slips down to mouth at Grant’s balls, Frank moans in sympathy; he knows just how good it feels.

Grant clutches a handful of Frank’s hair. He’s lost his words, now. Frank just pushes into Grant’s touches and reaches for Gerard. He wants to be touching both of them. 

Gerard pulls away from Grant at the touch of Frank’s hand in his hair. “What do you think?” he asks, licking his swollen lips. “Think I should suck him off?”

“Yeah,” Frank murmurs. “Yeah you should.”

Gerard smiles and stretches up to kiss him. “Okay, I will,” Gerard replies, sinks back down between Grant’s legs, and takes his cock in his mouth. 

“Hgngh,” Grant gasps. 

“Good, isn’t he?” Frank murmurs in Grant’s ear. “I remember.”

Grant’s mouth works, but no sound comes out. He’s flushed and gorgeous. Frank kisses his cheek and jaw and neck. Grant is so close. Frank can feel it in the trembles shuddering through his body. 

Frank sets his hand on Grant’s chest, stroking back and forth, feeling the tiny bursts of Grant’s power as he starts to lose himself. Grant moans again, their names this time, one after another and blurring together. “Come, Grant,” Frank murmurs. “Make him _really_ taste you.”

That’s all it takes. Grant cries out and his hips snap up, once, twice, before he’s coming in Gerard’s mouth. Frank whimpers along with him. Grant is gasping for breath, hauling in huge lungfuls of air. 

Frank crawls up to drop kisses all over his face. He avoids Grant’s lips until he’s stopped gasping, but it’s Grant who hauls him in. Grant wraps his arms tightly around Frank’s shoulders. Frank smiles against Grant’s lips. 

Gerard is making sharp, breathy, “ah ah ah” noises; when Frank looks, he’s rocked up on his heels and he’s frantically jerking off. 

“Gee?” Frank asks, startled. He starts to reach out.

“No, I-” Gerard pants. “M’good- I’m almost-” It’s so fucking hot. Frank bites his lip and watches Gerard come over the sheets and Grant’s thighs. 

“Oh, fuck,” Gerard gasps. “Fuck, that was-” 

“Hot as fuck?” Frank ventures.

“Yeah, that,” Gerard murmurs. 

“I’d use the word incredible,” Grant says. “Possibly mind-blowing.”

Gerard giggles and kind of falls forward into Grant’s arms. Frank smiles and throws his arms over them both. They’re a tangle of sticky limbs and filthy sheets and heavy breathing and for the moment, Frank doesn’t want to be anywhere else. 

* * *

Grant wakes up the next morning in much the same way that he’s awakened for the past week and a half: warm and sore in all the right places, tangled in a pile of limbs. He’d been utterly wrecked last night, falling asleep in Frank’s arms without even an effort at cleaning up—or moving. Gerard had done it. Gerard….

Fuck, it’s only been a month. It feels like a lifetime. To be fair, in his house, time feels as if it expands. And Gerard is curled in close behind him, one arm thrown over Grant’s chest, breathing softly against the back of Grant’s neck. He’s only booked for two more weeks, Grant realizes, and it’s like an icy weight in his chest. Not nearly enough time. Not nearly enough at all. He wants more. So much more. 

He has to say something, he knows. Especially after last night. He kisses Gerard’s forehead and squeezes his arm around Frank’s shoulders. He’s imagined it hundreds of times; what it would be like to have Frank come home to him. But now Gerard has found his way into those imaginings, too. 

They’re both sleeping hard. Grant’s not entirely certain why he woke up himself. He’s fairly certain it’s still early and they wore him out last night. _Gerard_ wore him out. 

_I want this_ , Grant thinks, helpless with it. _I want them. I want them to stay._

One thing Grant Morrison knows how to do is figure out how to get what he wants. He supposes the first step is speaking to them. 

Later, he decides. He considers getting up, going down to the kitchen, starting coffee. But Gerard sighs and nestles in closer, and Frank is a warm, steady presence against his other side, and Grant finds that he’s not willing to move just yet. In fact, he falls asleep again.

When he wakes up again, he finds Gerard tracing lines over his chest. “Morning,” Gerard says, when he catches Grant looking.

“A good one,” Grant replies. Gerard smiles soft and sweet and leans in for a slow, thorough kiss. When he pulls back, Grant reaches up to cup his cheek. “I would be a goddamn fool not to love you.”

If he’d thought Gerard’s smile had been gorgeous before, it’s _nothing_ compared to the expression that breaks across his face now. “You and Frank are all I can think about,” he whispers.

“Mutual,” Frank mutters into the skin of Grant’s arm. Grant laughs softly, dipping his head to press a kiss to Frank’s hair and trying to gather the strength to say what he wants to say to the two of them.

“Don’t leave,” he whispers, finally. Frank goes still. He clearly knows what Grant means. “Please.” Grant takes a deep breath. He has no idea what must be showing on his face. “Please,” he repeats. “I am not ready for this to be over.”

Frank lifts his head to look Grant in the eye. “As far as I’m concerned, it never will be, even if I did go back to Jersey. But I’m not ready to leave here anyway. Not by a long shot.” Frank kisses Grant, long and lingering. When he pulls away, he murmurs, “Every time I’ve left, I’ve wanted you to ask me to stay.”

“I’ve always wanted it,” Grant murmurs, dropping another kiss on Frank’s temple. He looks at Gerard, who’s watching them with a warm, somewhat thunderstruck expression. “Gerard?” he asks.

“I… my ticket is for two weeks from tomorrow. But I could call? Change it?” Gerard says. “I can work anywhere—I’ll have to go into town sometimes to send emails and stuff, but fuck yeah, I want to stay with you two. I love you.”

“I would really fucking love that,” Grant admits.

“I was already thinking about changing my ticket,” Gerard confides against Grant’s throat.

“Then stay. For as long as you like,” Grant says. 

“Could be a long time,” Gerard says. “I mean, I’ll have to go back to Jersey, but… Fuck, I would really love to come home to you two.”

Grant smiles and tightens his arms around them both. Soft touches and kisses lead to more and they get in Grant’s big shower together to wash off the mess before going down for coffee. 

Grant can’t help reaching out for one or both of them whenever he gets a chance. Maybe it’s just early days, infatuation, but Grant can’t believe they both agreed to stay so easily. He won’t argue, though. He never remembers how hard it is to let Frank go until face with the prospect. He’s incredibly relieved that he doesn’t have to. 

There will be more to discuss, he knows. But for now, he’s just letting himself bask in this. He thinks they are too.

They drink their coffee companionably and Frank eventually gets up to make them all some eggs and toast. After breakfast has been cleared away, Gerard makes an unhappy noise. “I want to work on my comic, but fuck, I really don’t want to not be touching the two of you.”

“What a conundrum,” Grant murmurs.

“How about we compromise by all working here at the table?” Frank suggests. 

“I think that sounds like an excellent plan,” Grant murmurs. “Gerard?”

“Works for me,” he smiles.

They split up to gather the necessary materials together. Grant decides on his favorite pen and a brand new notebook. After all, barring a few modifications, Frank’s creature—Remy, he thinks with a smile—is finished. It’s time to turn his thoughts to something new. 

Thanks to his boys—and his own overactive imagination—he has no shortage of ideas. 

He starts some calculations and sketches and all the while enjoys the feel of Gerard’s ankle hooked around his and that whenever he looks up, he sees Frank. Frank is busily scribbling in his own notebook. Grant doesn’t know exactly what he’s working on, but he’s excited to see. Gerard is drawing thumbnails. His pages are sprouting little sketches in the corners that look vaguely like Archie and co. 

Grant’s fairly certain he spends as much time looking at Frank and Gerard as he does actually working. But he frequently catches them looking back, so he can’t feel too badly about it.

The cats curl up together on the windowsill, waiting for the next time someone drops crumbs. It’s positively idyllic. And that’s saying something when it comes to afternoons in his home. 

After an hour or so, Heloise comes clicking in, followed by Archie and Remy. She’s clearly impressed on them which one of them is the boss. Grant smiles when she goes to Gerard immediately and waits patiently for him to sit back far enough for her to get on his lap. 

“Hello, Miss H,” Gerard says, running a hand over her head. She clacks and pokes him in the chin with a foreleg. Grant reaches out to squeeze Gerard’s arm and he looks up at Grant, delighted. “She likes me!”

Grant laughs and leans forward, pressing a kiss to Gerard’s temple. “You belong here.”

Gerard leans back in his chair with a smile. “Guess I do.” Grant looks at Frank, who’s beaming at the both of them. 

“We all do,” Frank says. Grant slides his hand across the table and Frank takes it, squeezing hard. Gerard covers their hands with his. Heloise chirps, and Archie and Remy whistle back, and Grant would almost swear that he hears the manor singing in response. 

* * *

art by [akamine_chan](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3159533)

* * *

**EPILOGUE:**

Grant looks up over the edge of his book and over at Frank and Gerard. They’ve been back from New Jersey for several days now and Grant couldn’t be happier. The two months they were gone settling things up there felt interminable. They’re back now, though. For a long time. 

He smiles and tries to go back to his book, but he can’t stop looking at them every once in a while. He can’t quite believe his luck. 

The past few months have erased practically all of the tension and unhappiness that Frank had spent so long carrying. Remy works exactly as Grant had hoped he would—Frank’s power is completely under his control for the first time since it had truly manifested itself. He’d been able to fly back to Jersey without sedating himself, and Grant knows Frank is excited to do more with his band, eventually, now that he doesn’t have to worry about accidentally shorting out equipment. 

Amazingly, he’d still come back to Grant. 

Because Grant is a lucky bastard, Gerard had come back to Grant, too. And practically the first thing Gerard had done was show Grant a sheaf of pages: proofs from his comic, three familiar characters in a technicolor desert, standing together. Gerard had dyed his hair a fiery red while they’d been away, and Grant had tangled his fingers in it and pulled Gerard in for a searing kiss, completely overwhelmed by how grateful he felt that they were back. That they were _his_.

The feeling hasn’t abated. If anything, it’s getting stronger by the day. Thankfully, this is Grant’s house, and there aren’t any circuits for him to blow by being stupidly in love. 

Frank finally catches him staring and grins. “See something you like?” he teases. 

“Yes,” Grant replies emphatically. 

Frank slips out of his chair and onto Grant’s lap. Grant wraps his arms around Frank’s waist and leans in to kiss him. When they pull apart, Gerard is watching them, and Grant doesn’t have words for all the things he can read in Gerard’s eyes. It all mixes together and ends up as appreciation, though.

Grant slides a hand down to cup Frank’s ass and kisses him again. “Mmm,” Frank says, pleased. Across the table, Grant hears Gerard close his notebook. 

It’s a damn good thing that Cameron decided to take the week to go and visit some friends in Germany, really.

He’s not surprised it’s Frank who made the move. He’s honestly surprised it didn’t happen sooner. He smiles when Gerard moves his chair closer and leans in to press his face against Frank’s neck. Grant laughs ruefully. “We are easily distractible, it seems.”

“Does anyone here have a deadline?” Frank points out.

“Not that I’m aware of,” Grant replies and leans in to kiss him. “Are we going to do this here?” 

“Well, Cameron will be back tomorrow, so maybe we should take advantage of the time we’ve got.” Frank points out. 

“Hmm, I like the sound of that,” Grant agrees. “Cameron has always been a bit delicate.”

Frank snorts. “You mean bitchy.”

“Yes, bitchy. But delightfully so,” Grant replies and reaches out to squeeze Gerard’s thigh. 

Gerard’s eyelashes flutter against his cheek as he sucks in a breath. “Still… _on_ the table? We eat here.”

“Really? You’re that guy?” Frank asks. 

Grant laughs. “Surprised you aren’t, darling,” he murmurs against Frank’s lips. 

“We can clean the table,” Frank says, plaintively. 

Gerard thunks his head against Grant’s shoulder. Grant laughs and turns to kiss the top of Gerard’s head. “Is that you giving in to the defiling of the table?”

“I guess I could maybe be convinced,” Gerard allows. It’s the least convincing thing Grant has ever heard Gerard say. He and Frank both laugh and Frank reaches around Gerard’s shoulders and pulls him in for a kiss. Grant sits back and watches. It strikes him all over again how goddamn _lucky_ he is. That he has them—that they’d come back to him. That they want to stay with him and call his house their home.

“How’d you like to visit another secret room?” Grant whispers.

“Fuck, I _still_ haven’t seen them all?” Gerard asks. 

Grant clicks his tongue. “I’ve been building them for years.”

“Mad genius,” Frank snickers.

“Bet your arse,” Grant says and nudges Frank up off his lap. Frank goes, but only to fall right back down again, into Gerard’s lap this time. 

“Menace,” Gerard says, hands going to Frank’s hips to steady him.

“You like it,” Frank tells him. Instead of saying anything, Gerard kisses him, which Grant figures is confirmation enough. 

Eventually he manages to get them both up and lead them out of the kitchen and down the hall. He bypasses the first two doors, but stops before the third. The cleverly concealed door in the paneling opens into a tiny glass-roofed conservatory, completely invisible from the exterior.

“Holy fuck,” Gerard breathes. “How do you keep fucking surprising me?”

“It’s mutual,” Grant murmurs, pulling Gerard into his arms. “If this location suits you,” he adds huskily, “I will gladly fuck you on any surface you choose.”

“Fuck,” Gerard moans against his throat. “Maybe all of them. All of them would be good.”

Grant laughs and presses a kiss to Gerard’s temple, humming when Frank echoes the action on Gerard’s other side. “You’re home now. We have time for that, love.”

“Where do we start?” Frank asks.

“The beginning?” Grant asks cheekily. 

“All right,” Gerard agrees, and leans in to press his lips to Grant’s. Grant wants him up against a wall, and soon. He runs his hands down Gerard’s back and cups his arse, pulling him close. 

“You have a one-track mind,” Frank teases.

“You goad me into it,” Grant says, releasing Gerard to take hold of Frank instead.

“That’s me. Goader extraordinaire,” Frank replies. Grant presses his lips to Frank’s. Frank raises his arms to cup the back of Grant’s skull, and Grant can feel the cool metal of the bracelets.

Frank had been back in New Jersey for nearly two months, and he hadn’t had a single incident. Remy and the bracelets are working perfectly—Grant had given him a thorough checking over the day before, but all of the power-gathering and storage circuits are operating at one-hundred percent. And Frank had still come back. Gerard, too. Grant doesn’t have the words to express how fucking over the moon his is for the two of them.

He can show them, though. “It’s really unfortunate that I can’t invent a device to allow me to fuck the both of you at the same time,” he murmurs. 

Gerard says, “Pity. But what if… What if you fuck Frank, and Frank fucks me?” 

Grant closes his eyes. “Yes,” he murmurs.

“ _Fuck_ yes,” Frank breathes. Grant would bet money he’d gone painfully hard in the space of a heartbeat. He slots their hips together more firmly, just to see, and is rewarded with a gasp.

“Thought so,” he murmurs. Frank grinds against him and Grant laughs. He grips Frank’s hips and turns him around. 

Grant wonders if he’s ever going to get over how these two make him feel. He suspects not.

Frank is still wearing sweats and it’s easy to just slide them down his hips. Gerard drops to his knees beside them. “Let me?” he asks.

Frank groans a little. “Please.”

Gerard gets Frank’s sweats off and leans in to nuzzle his hip as he tugs down Frank’s briefs. Grant moves off to the side. “Are you going to get him ready for me, love?”

“Oh yeah,” Gerard says, shifting behind Frank and cradling his hips.

Grant runs his fingers through Gerard’s hair and watches Gerard lean in and swipe his tongue over Frank’s entrance. Frank gasps; Grant chuckles and leans in to kiss his temple and mouth at his jaw. Gerard has a really, really talented mouth. They both have occasion to know that.

Gerard spreads Frank wide and keeps licking, pressing the tip of his tongue against the ring of muscle. “Fuck,” Frank pants. “Oh, fuck, Gee, your _mouth_.”

Gerard hums a reply and keeps going, and Frank braces himself on the wall and pushes back into it. He cocks his head to look at Grant. Grant runs fingers through his fringe and murmurs his name. He leans in and catches one of Frank’s moans with his mouth. Fuck. He is never, ever going to tire of kissing Frank. 

Frank’s body sways with involuntary motion as Gerard licks him. He’s breathing in hard through his nose and Grant reaches around Frank and takes hold of his cock, running his thumb over the head. 

“Gerard,” he murmurs, “You should get yourself ready for Frank.”

“On it,” Gerard says throatily. Grant looks down. He’s fumbling a little bottle of lube from his jeans pocket.

Grant laughs, fondly. “Boy Scout.” Trusting Gerard to see to himself, Grant turns his attention back to Frank. “Beautiful,” he murmurs, accepting the bottle when Gerard hands it to him.

He slips two fingers inside Frank. He’s already wet from Gerard’s mouth, but the lube makes it easier.

Frank groans. “Now,” he demands. Grant slicks up his cock and lines up. Sinking inside Frank is always, always a revelation. He has to close his eyes and concentrate on holding Frank still. Sticky fingers wrap around his ankle under his trouser leg. He looks down to find Gerard staring.

“Are you ready, love?” Grant asks him. Gerard nods. 

Gerard licks his lips and nods. He stands up and squeezes between Frank and the wall.

Grant can tell the moment that Frank slides inside Gerard because he clenches around Grant’s cock. 

“Fuck,” he groans. “You feel so amazing, always.” He gasps and presses his forehead to Gerard’s shoulder. Grant holds very still.

“Feels- ah! Feels so fucking good,” Gerard murmurs, bracing his forearms against the wall.

Frank’s forehead is resting between Gerard’s shoulder blades and Grant can feel him breathing hard. He takes a firmer grip on Frank’s hips, bites his own lower lip, and starts to thrust.

He keeps his movements tightly controlled. Frank moans loud and Gerard echoes him as Grant’s thrust pushes Frank into him. Grant thinks Frank is too far gone to do the moving, so Grant will control all three of them the best he can.

Gerard is kicking his hips with each of Frank’s thrusts, driving Frank back and further onto Grant’s cock. It’s overwhelming in the best way. He knows it must be doubly so for Frank. That makes him smile, and he presses his mouth against the back of Frank’s neck.

Suddenly, Frank is fumbling for his wrists. “Darling?” Grant asks, concerned that something’s gone wrong with the bracelets. He’d run tests after they’d come back, and all the levels had seemed normal, fuck–

“Want you to feel this,” Frank murmurs, and Grants bites back a groan at how much he _wants_. “Both of you—you make me—want you to feel it, please.”

When Frank gets the bracelets off, a wave of his power rushes over them. Gerard moans and Grant gasps. He takes the bracelets from Frank’s hands and tosses them gently toward the sofa. It seems to be all they needed to feel wild, urgent. Grant’s hips snap forward, and he lets a few tendrils of his own power escape his grasp and reach out.

Gerard moans again, loud and long. Grant stretches his arm to squeeze Gerard’s hip before starting to thrust harder into Frank. Frank’s bathing them all in waves of staticky warmth. It’s nearly overwhelming, but not in a frightening way; he knows that he can let go, can let himself feel this. 

Grant keeps thrusting. “Frank,” he murmurs. “Touch Gerard’s cock.” Frank sucks in an audible breath and shifts. Gerard moans.

Grant tangles one hand in Gerard’s hair and slides the other hand down Frank’s stomach, hissing when Frank clenches around him.

“Beautiful,” Grant murmurs. “Both of you.”

“Want to feel you come,” Frank mutters back.

“Please,” Gerard adds, voice tight. 

Grant responds by gripping Frank’s hips and thrusting harder, faster. He’s close. “Give me more,” he whispers against Frank’s ear.

“Everything,” Frank gasps, his hips stuttering. His head falls back against Grant’s chest, and Grant feels Frank’s power surging and tangling with his own, and that, combined with Gerard’s breathless moan, is enough to drive Grant over the edge.

Frank gasps and moans and his hips stutter against Gerard. Grant feels him start to come and knows, can feel, that Gerard won’t be far behind. He grasps Frank tightly around the chest and drives their hips forward, just once. Hard. 

It’s enough. Gerard bites out a string of filthy, desperate curses and follows them Frank practically collapses against Gerard’s back and Gerard seems to be only barely holding himself up against the wall. Grant kisses the jack-o-lantern on Frank’s back and pulls out. He’s feeling distinctly unsteady himself.

It takes some doing, but he manages to herd them all over to the couch up against the conservatory’s back wall. It’s a tight squeeze, but none of them are particularly in need of personal space at the moment. 

“Love you,” Frank murmurs in his ear, and Gerard murmurs in agreement. The words haven’t stopped making Grant’s heart do ridiculous things. He doubts they ever will.

Their clothes are in disarray and all three of them are still breathing hard, but it’s cozy and comfortable at the same time. Grant likes to think part of it is his little greenhouse room, or maybe Invisible Manor itself. And then there’s the fact that the three of them _fit_ together so, so perfectly. In a variety of ways. He adores both of them so very much. 

Frank slots their fingers together. Gerard leans his head against Grant’s shoulder. Like a set of gears, they click into the perfect position, and the thing that makes Grant the happiest is that he knows it’s not the only position that works. And it doesn’t have to be. 


End file.
